The Founder
by FigTreeofyourImagination
Summary: The battle against Garland and Kuja is over and peace has finally come to Gaia. But a new darkness has arisen in its place... What could this mean for our heroes?
1. Prologue

**DISCLAIMERS: Zidane and his blind followers all belong to Squaresoft (or Enix, or SquareEnix, one of the three). BUT everything else not owned by them is owned by ME.**

**Summary: With the battle against Garland and Kuja over, peace seems to have returned to Gaia and its people. But a new darkness has begun to grow in its place. What could this possibly mean for the war-weary folk? And what does it have to do with a certain redheaded bounty hunter? The answers lay ahead.**

**NOTE TO ALL: This piece is the first in a series of three inter-linking stories; they're considerably darker than the stuff I've putting out before now, and so won't be quite as full of random stupid. There will still be some humour (in the first couple of chapters, anyway) but not as much. The rating is 'T' for now, but that may or may not change. This tale will eventually involve blood, guts, death, general weirdness, and stuff that may seem to some as disturbing (no I don't mean hentai). But most of that's not coming for a while yet, so no need to rush off and grab a vomit bag yet.**

**This is only the prologue, so it may not set the greatest first impression, so please read further and give this little fellow a chance, it gets better.**

* * *

THE FOUNDER

**Prologue: Only The Beginning**

The sky was grey with heavy clouds, for it was spring. Almost everywhere folk were keeping behind their doors, knowing a storm was fast approaching. Farmers left their chores to sit with their wives and merchants reluctantly closed up shop to protect their wares. All was calm, save for a chill wind that swept breezily across the plains.

With all eyes turned away from the skies, none would bare witness to the calamity that would fall unto their earth. High above the ground a pocket of energy formed within the blackening clouds, twisting the thick moulds of grey into a spinning vortex. A dim light bloomed from the centre of the unmoving whirlpool of air, slowly becoming bright with an unholy light. Growing with a fiery red flare, the light was delivered from the tortured clouds and sent hurtling towards the chilling plains below. The body of the light, though small, hit the earth with a silent boom, sending a wave of unnatural discharge spanning out from the point of impact.

As quickly as it had came, all evidence of the flare vanished from the sky, the clouds returning to their former make, the aura of the fall fading away.

But a small tongue of smoke still rose from the assaulted earth where the unholy light touched. Beyond the barrier of burnt wild grasses could be heard the sound of laboured scuffling and unearthly growls. The whine of polished metal sang briefly in the heavy air, followed by a faint thump of a form hitting the abused ground.

There was a spell of silence.

Faintly, a new sound floated from the earth's welt, the distinct ring of repetitive tearing of soft skin, broken only by the quiet crunch of bone on bone. With the gentle patter of early rain descending from the clouds a form slithered from the open sore into the cover of the tall grass, only the slight waver of the green stalks giving any signal to its passing.

With the unhealthy aura still clinging to the blast in the earth, not even the most desperate of scavengers would tread near enough to lay sight upon the bloodied bones and feathers that stood as testimony to another's defeat.

* * *

**There you have it, the prologue. Not the longest thing in the world but it seemed to need it's own chapter slot. Please keep reading! And review! Tell me what you think! Crit and whatnot is both welcome and highly appreciated.**


	2. P1: i

**Things start picking up now (somewhat). Disclaimers are the same as before and blah blah blah, so enjoy! Nothing bad yet, so it's still 'T'.**

* * *

**Part 1: FOR THE MONEY**

**i - The Circus is Coming to Town**

They were almost ready. Everything was moving right on schedule, just as the Master wanted. The portals had been set and the rest was following as smooth as silk. There had been many strong souls here, though not enough to appease the Master; they would have to move on.

Under the dark of night they continued on their way, bent wholly on completing Their Master's will. They will continue. They will harvest unto their Master's content. They will beat Them at their own game.

* * *

The dark city of Treno glittered under the power of its own light, creating shadows as stark as its class division. Over the battered rooftops of the city's less fortunate estates leapt a figure of feared renown, sharp eyes trained on the hunted man scurrying below him. _Run, little man, run_, thought the hunter, sneering in the cover of darkness.

The young thief ran as fast as he could, not daring to look back. He had it going. He had made a name for himself, he had gained the respect of his peers. But now he was being hunted by the most hated man in Treno for the bounty some old croon had put on his head. It had only been a vase, what's the big deal? He had hardly got his trouble's worth of gil out of it anyway. He continued to run, mind racing like an angry bee. He stopped abruptly, he had hit a blind alley. He spun around instantly, dagger drawn, waiting for the hunter to catch up. Hells, he'd be a monkey's uncle if he let himself be caught without a fight! He stood stock-still, ears and eyes trained for any sound or movement. Seconds went by, and still no sign of his pursuer. Relaxing slightly, the thief let out a hesitant laugh. He had been too fast for him. He had escaped the mighty Flaming Amarant Coral. His laughter was cut short, however, when a large shadow detached itself from the rooftops and descended upon him. There was a sharp pain at the back of his head, then the thief remembered no more.

The bounty hunter stood over the unconscious form of his petty prey, as if to confirm to any others hiding in the shadows that this was _his_ find. Assured that whoever else had been eyeing his catch got the idea that it wasn't up for grabs, he hefted the sleeping bounty onto his shoulder with a grunt. With a single leap he landed easily atop the nearest home, the pitiful shack groaning under the sudden addition of his weight.

He picked his way across the city, making for where he would get his payment for his troubles. It may not have been the greatest bounty he had ever chased, but it would put food in his stomach for a night or two at the least. He needed to find something better than the lowly scum that were popping up everywhere, small-time criminals hoping to make it big with a few stunts here and there. He growled, they were all such wastes of skin, the lot of them. But then again, without them, he'd just be another beggar wandering the streets.

Reaching his destination he unceremoniously dumped his cargo into the hands of the city guard. The exhausted men in armour fearfully gave him his pay and carted the thief away. Stashing the minute gil away the redhead stalked back into the shadows. Even with the bounty over his own head dismissed he kept himself scarce. He didn't get that much respect from the general public for the services he did, and the local scum liked him even less. Best to keep low until another bounty worthy of his attention popped up, or until his hunger clamoured otherwise.

Passing the weapons shop he heard the distant sound of something flapping rhythmically in the air. The sound was coming from behind him; unsure of what to make of the disturbance he increased his pace. The soft noise followed after him. Not looking back he dove smoothly into a shadowed alleyway. The flapping remained stationary over his hiding place for a few seconds, then sped off. Amarant waited in the gloom for a little longer, making sure his stalker wouldn't return. He hadn't been able to see his pursuer, but whoever it had been was gone now. Leaving the cramped alley silently he made for the city gates. The little encounter was a good enough reason for him to leave for a while, maybe camp out for a few days.

Nearing the front gates where the city guard had mastered the art of sleeping on their feet, he gave the settlement one last look of disgust.

Busy glaring at a noble couple strutting about the sidewalk below him he didn't notice the flapping had returned. The source of the noise homed in on him with a hell-bent mind, closing in on the massive redhead with alarming speed. Having finally caught ear of the sound, Amarant looked about frantically for the source of the flapping noise. His efforts were finally rewarded when a bundle of pearly fur barrelled into him at top speed, lodging itself in the folds of his green shirt. "What the-?" he squawked.

"Kupooo!" whined the thing, batting around inside his clothing, clearly lost.

A Moogle. He should have known. He rolled his eyes as the tiny messenger tried to navigate its way out of his vastly oversized shirt, hoping nobody was watching.

"Kupo, it's so dark in here! Help!" cried the Moogle helplessly.

Having had enough, the bounty hunter grasped and held the collar of his shirt open.

The little thing poked its furry head out from the cut in the shirt. "Kupo!" it said, "that's better!" It twisted around in the shirt to look up at its benefactor. "Are you Mr. Coral, kupo?" it asked, peering at him through squinted eyes.

"Get out of my shirt," replied Amarant.

The Moogle frowned at him. "Kupo! You're not very nice!"

"What is it you want?" he asked irritably, still holding the shirt open.

The Moogle held out a letter, not moving from its newfound hammock. "Letter for you, Kupo!"

He took the enveloped parchment from the creature, letting go of his collar to deal with it. The little Moogle fell back into the confines of his upper wear as the man opened and read the letter.

_Yo Amarant,_

_We haven't heard from you in a while. Why not come on down to Alexandria for a visit? Everyone else will be there too. It'll be fun, and I doubt that you have anything so worthy of your time as to keep you from coming._

The little Moogle wormed about to his back, trying frantically to find the exit.

_If you don't come I'll send the local guard to haul you here by your ankles. So get your butt over here. It's just not a reunion party without you sulking in the back._

_See you soon._

_Zidane._

_P.S. The guards have already been paid, just so you know. So get cracking._

Amarant gritted his teeth. That damn monkey again. The one burden in his life other than living he had to carry about wherever he went. Why can't that bundle of stupid just leave him alone?

"Kupooo!" cried the Moogle, lost somewhere beneath his right arm.

"Wha? Would you get out!" he scolded, holding out his collar again for the Moogle to fly out.

The diminutive fairy careened out from the green shirt, huffing, its little wings beating the air frantically. "Kupo! That was horrible!"

Amarant glared at it. "You've done what you've come here for, now beat it."

The Moogle was still trying to get its bearings back. "What, kupo?"

He sighed in exasperation. "You can leave now," he said. He'd leave for Alexandria tomorrow, he was tired.

"Kupo!" it replied, straightening itself in the air. "Best to get moving, kupo! Zidane paid the Treno guards, kupo! They'll come if you don't hurry!"

He groaned loudly. So the fool wasn't joking this time. He rubbed his brow angrily, obscene curses of every stripe circling his head silently. He'd get back at that idiot for this, no question about it. He didn't need people like him hounding him to attend pointless gatherings on a whim. He watched the Moogle fly away, stiffening as the feeling of being watched crept over him.

The monkey definitely wasn't joking.

Huffing angrily he stormed purposefully to the Gargan Roo, where he could catch a ride to the grand city of Alexandria for only a few gil. It wasn't the way he had hoped to spend his already lacking funds, but it didn't seem as though he had much of a choice at the moment. The annoying sense of being followed tailed him until he finally reached the Gargan Roo. He reluctantly paid the toll and boarded the giant insect with a giddy pair of young middle-class women sitting across from him. He was really beginning to hate today with more and more fervour. He pretended to sleep during the ride as the two girls twittered about nonsense.

"Did you hear?" piped one.

"What about?" asked the other.

"About the disappearances," clarified the first in a hushed voice.

"Oh, yes!" replied the second in a way that clearly said she didn't.

"It's been happening all over the west!" continued the first. "Some young men in that little town of Dali have just vanished into thin air, I heard one of the Guard say."

"Oh, my! That's terrible!"

Amarant found himself vehemently wishing the two girls would shut up.

"I know! Some are saying it's a mass kidnapping!" hissed the first, totally undeterred.

"A mass kidnapping? That's awful!" gasped her partner dramatically.

"I know!" she repeated. "And it's been happening all over the place, too!"

This was where he shut his brain off for the remainder of the ride. If he wanted to stem his brainpower this way he'd have sat himself down on the roof of a girl's schoolhouse.

To his tired mind the ride went by in a dark flash. He didn't wake until the coach master poked him indignantly in the shoulder when the Gargant arrived at its destination, rousing him unhappily from his slumber. Hauling himself from the Gargant tunnel he navigated blearily to the open streets, where the sun was shining bright. Covering his assaulted eyes he gazed about the bustling city irritably. With this kind of crowd even he would have a fight in his hands to get to the castle. Deciding to go with the flow he stepped into the current of people traffic and let himself be carried towards the centre of the city.

It had been a fair while since he had last been to this city, and would have much rather kept it that way. The entire settlement, along with its trademark castle, had been utterly rebuilt after the devastation Kuja had rained down upon it two years previously. The people were as happy as ever, though, admirably, never forgetful of the war that had nearly ended the common way of life.

Zidane hadn't specified where they would be expecting him, but if this was anything like the last few times he tried to round up the former members of their goody-goody team, the Alexandria Castle would be the place to throw the ensuing chaos.

Being towed along at a fair pace through the streets he gazed at the familiar sights and sounds. Peddlers lined the streets, shouting out the quality of their wares over the racket of their competitors. As he flowed past he saw something he didn't recognise. Passing the outer wall he saw that a huge tent was being erected just beyond the city limits. As he stared, a buzzing noise had begun to develop in his ears, low but insistent. He shook his head to clear away the noise but the buzzing remained. The irritating sound hung over him like a bad cloud for the duration of the trek, diminishing only as he neared the monstrous Alexandria Castle.

He had been expected, it seemed. The armed guard hesitantly escorted him across the moat towards the castle, not bothering to search him. He ignored the young guards in annoyance as they gave him fearful glances from underneath their helmets. Happy to have reached the other side, he leapt off the ornate gondola without so much as a 'thank you'.

His arrival didn't go unnoticed, either.

"Hey, Amarant! You're here!" came a voice.

The bounty hunter groaned as the source bounded to his side, pinning a bouncy blonde with a cold eye. "You…," he said simply.

"Hey, why such a long face?" jeered Zidane. "I didn't think you'd be here this quick, I'll admit I thought that the Treno guards would be hauling you in." He laughed at his joke.

Amarant just glared at him. "This is the last time I allow you to drag me into one of these 'get togethers' of yours."

"Oh, come on!" said the tailed boy loudly. "Don't be such a stick in the mud! You'll have fun this time, I swear."

"Oh? You're offering to be a punching bag?" he said in a serious tone.

The boy laughed again. "Ha! I didn't think you had a sense of humour! Great job!" He wandered down the walkway to the castle doors, obviously wanting the redhead to follow.

"I wasn't joking," he hissed angrily, coming after him shortly.

The reception inside was no less aggravating. The others smiled and crowded around him, commenting on how surprised they were that he had come under his own will. He stood and glared at nothing, wishing it would all end right there.

Most of their former travelling posse was present. Zidane, obviously, the Queen, because she lived there, Vivi, minus his clones, Eiko, shrill shrieks and all, Freya, still in that ridiculous red raincoat, Steiner, because where the Queen went, he went. There was no sign of Quina anywhere.

As if sensing his thoughts, the rat spoke up. "Quina couldn't make it. She was busy with other matters."

"Oh, so you lot can leave that thing alone, but not me? How considerate," he scoffed.

Eiko punched him in the leg. "You big grouch!" she said.

"Back off, brat," he spat.

"What'd you call me?" she asked incredulously, hands on her hips.

"I called you a brat, brat, now beat it!"

The little blue-haired girl huffed and stalked away to stand by Zidane. The monkey was grinning wide, shamelessly exposing his pearly whites. "You haven't changed one bit, 'rant," he said.

"Don't call me-"

_Filthy beast._

Amarant's heart froze, choking on his own words, his mind lost in a distant, unbidden fog. He felt as though lost in the dark. The buzzing had restarted, flooding his hearing.

"Amarant?"

He snapped back into the present with the calling of his proper name. "Huh?" he blinked dumbly. The hum had vanished.

The other waved his hand dismissively. "Ah, nothing," he said cheerily, though the episode wasn't discarded by some as easily. "Let's have some dinner! I'm starved!"

The throng migrated to the massive dinning room, where the tables had been monstrously set for the seven of them. The former travelling do-gooders ate with gusto, each revelling in the other's enjoyment. Eiko tried unsuccessfully to start a food fight, pelting the young black mage with a glob of mashed potatoes. The little magic user spent the following five minutes trying to clear his face of the food, later retaliating by chucking a fistful of green beans at the summoner when she wasn't looking. Zidane just laughed like he had been that entire afternoon, watching the two youngest of their group duke it out with the banquet as ammunition.

Amarant ate slowly in silence, not really paying attention as a chicken leg flew past his head haphazardly. Under more normal circumstances he would be snarfing down his food, but something had thrown him off balance. What had happened? He swore he had heard a voice, distant but menacing, while greeting the rest of Zidane's blind followers in the main hall. But no-one else had heard it, it seemed, and now it was bothering him immensely. Something had given way in a dark, abandoned part of his brain, leaving a yawning chasm in the back of his mind. An obscene fog had begun to cloud his mind, blocking his own thoughts with others he was sure were not his. He didn't notice that the others were trying to get his attention until Freya, who had been sitting beside him the entire time, snapped her fingers under his nose. "Wha?" he said, looking up.

"I said, are you feeling okay?" asked the monkey from the end of the table. The food fight had long since come to a close. "You've been zoned out for a while."

"Oh… I'm fine," he replied half-heartedly, stabbing at his plate with his fork absently.

"If you say so…" The boy instantly brightened. "Well, I say we go out and enjoy ourselves as a group tonight, just like old times!"

"Go out?" asked Freya, "where?"

"Th-there's a n-new circus in town," suggested Vivi.

_Give me back my skin._

Amarant's fork stabbed through the table cloth and into the wood. He put his hand over the head of the utensil to hide the damage.

"Th-they're supposed to be r-really good," continued the mage.

The 'leader' of the group considered this for a moment while the bounty hunter tried to discretely wrench his fork from the wood of the table. Zidane hummed and hawed for a few seconds before hitting the table with his hand enthusiastically, another wide grin plastered across his face. "You know, that's a great idea! We'll all go to the circus!"

Everyone began to nod and murmur in agreement.

"I'm not going," stated the redhead, finally freeing his eating instrument from the hard wood of the table.

Everyone gave him an incredulous stare. "What? Why not?" shot the monkey from his seat.

"I… don't like circuses," he replied stiffly.

"Oh, come on! Everybody loves the circus, man! What's the matter with you, afraid of clowns?" he jeered.

"No," he shot back heatedly, standing up from his chair. "I just don't _like_ the circus, that's _all_. _You_ can go if you want. I'll stay _here_," he finished, glaring at the tailed thief.

Zidane folded his hands behind his head and leaned back, totally unfazed by the other's anger. "Of course you're coming, Amarant. I told you you'd enjoy yourself on this visit and I meant it. And that enjoyment is going to start with you joining us at the circus."

"I don't see how you forcing me to join you is making me enjoy myself," he growled.

"You'll see. You just need to let loose a little bit. Try not to be so stingy all the time. What's the name of the circus, Vivi?" he asked, turning to the mage.

"O-oh, it was called… The e-Eccentric Circus, I think," the diminutive magic user replied.

Amarant made a face. "Rather unorthodox sounding," he commented.

All eyes were trained on him.

The bounty hunter nearly cringed from the force of the multiple gazes. What the hell? It seemed as though everything he was saying was amounting to no good. Whatever happened to respecting free-speech?

"Oh, well," continued Zidane, reverting everyone's attention back on him. "A circus is a circus. We're going either way." He pinned his blue gaze on the confused Amarant. "And you're coming with us."

"What? No!" shouted the redhead.

"Oh, I think so!" retorted the monkey with a maniacal grin. "If you don't we'll have Vivi petrify you and we'll drag you there ourselves!"

The other finally sat back down. What was it with Zidane and dragging him everywhere? "Fine," he said reluctantly.

"Great! Then let's go!"

* * *

Everything was now ready. The souls would come flocking in moments, all They had to do now was wait. When the right souls came they would be marked. Tracked. And brought unto the Master accordingly.

All They had to do was wait. The tables would be turned in Their favour.

* * *

**And that's not all! More is just around the bend, so stick around!**


	3. P1: ii

**DISCLAIMERS: The do-gooder team all belong to Sqauresoft and Enix (I think... something like that).**

**BUT everything else is mine.**

**Here be chapter two!**

* * *

**ii - Ladies and Gentlemen! May We Present…**

The group passed through the main gates of Alexandria, heading for the bright tents of the Eccentric Circus. Amarant trailed behind as was his routine, fuming by himself. As they neared the massive tents, the buzzing that had plagued him earlier returned. He shook and batted at his ears, trying to silence the irritating hum. He eventually stopped walking altogether, completely absorbed in trying to clear his ears. He covered them, he scrubbed them clean with his fingers, he even tried pouring potions into them, but nothing would work. He leaned against a nearby rock, trying again to clean them. The man was so preoccupied that he didn't notice that the Queen, dressed in her former travelling cloak, had navigated back to stand before him.

She looked at him questioningly as he tried desperately to extinguish the persistent buzz. "Amarant?"

He nearly jumped out of his skin. "Bah!" he spun to face her. "What?" he asked irritably, his heart still in his throat.

"Are you alright?" she asked quietly.

"I'm fine," he replied tersely, a finger still lodged in his ear.

"My Queen!" came an all-too familiar call. Steiner came clanking into view, sounding like an army of pots in terrible need of polish. "My Queen," he said again, reaching them. "There you are!"

"Don't call me that, Steiner!" admonished Garnet softly. "I'm under cover!"

The tin Knight kneeled in guilt. "Oh! Yes, my apologies! I-"

Garnet shook her head, smiling at the old Knight fondly. "It's all right, Steiner. Stand up, don't let formalities get in the way of tonight's enjoyment!"

The man stood up hastily. "O-of course, Qu-I mean, miss Garnet!"

"That's better. Now go and join the others, I'll be right there."

The senior Knight clanked away hurriedly. Amarant watch him leave. Sometimes, he couldn't help but feel sorry for the man. He looked down, noticing that the brunette was still staring at him, concern mirrored in her features.

He didn't like the way she was looking at him. "What are you still here for?" he quipped.

Her expression didn't change. "Are you sure you're alright?" she asked.

"I said I was fine. Geeze, is that so hard to understand?" he huffed, still trying to clear his ears with a blue finger.

"Alright. Alright," she said placidly. "I'm sorry, I just thought you needed something."

The giant instantly felt remorse for his temperamental words. He sighed. "I'm fine, really. There's just this… annoying noise… that won't leave me alone."

"A noise?" her face pinched in puzzlement.

"It's nothing," he said hastily, regretting his words a second time. "I can deal with it."

The other sighed. "If you say so…" She put out a gloved hand, somehow encasing his in her tiny grasp. Caught off guard, Amarant allowed himself to be lead towards the tents, where the others waited.

The skies were dark, black from east to west, north to south. No stars shone, and the moon refused to show her face. In stark contrast the yellow tents were ablaze with countless tiny lights lining every corner and bend, strung from one spire to the next like spider thread speckled in dew. An immense crowd had already funnelled about the one entrance to the tent, families, singles and couples all filed towards the Big Top in excitement. For many, this would be their first Circus performance.

Amarant was dragged by the insistent undercover Queen to where the others had gathered. Zidane waved to them as they neared. "What took you two so long?" he called out. "We'll never get in if we don't hurry!"

The buzzing continued to flood the redhead's hearing, blurring all other sounds together with its frequency. He looked up at the colossal tent, a distinct feeling of unease creeping through his bones. Unfamiliar thoughts came unbidden to the forefront of his mind, whipping past in a flash. He… could feel a distinct aura around the castle of tarp… somehow. For some reason he felt as though he should avoid it.

"Hey! Amarant!" yelled the monkey, hands cupped around his mouth.

The redhead wrenched his gaze from the tent. "What?"

"Geeze, man! I had to call your name three times to get your attention!" huffed the thief. "What's wrong with you? Going deaf?"

He snarled at him. "With your incessant banter going all day long I just might be."

Zidane made a face. Freya broke in, hoping to halt the quarrelling. "Hold it, hold it. Let's just put everything aside and enjoy the show," she advised. "The ticket booth is just over there. We should go pick ours up before they're sold out."

"I'm not going," said Amarant flatly.

"You big party-pooper!" shot Eiko.

"Clamp it, brat."

"You're coming with us, whether you like it or not," said Zidane. "We've got you this far, and there's no way we're gonna let you back out now."

The giant pinned him with an icy glare. "I'm not going," he said again. He wanted to get away from this place.

"You sod, you're chickening out on us!"

His hands balled into fists instantly.

"You are _so_ afraid of clowns, I know it!" jeered the tailed boy.

"I should pound you into a pulp, monkey," he growled angrily.

"Or mimes. Is it mimes? I bet it's mimes!"

The temperamental redhead took a deep breath. "I'm not afraid of clowns or mimes," he said slowly through gritted teeth.

"Chicken! Bawk! Bawk-bawk bawk-kaw!" crowed Zidane, flapping his elbows in a sad impersonation of a rooster. The others struggled to keep from laughing.

"Cut that out!" snarled Amarant.

"Bawk-bawk!" The thief jumped and capered in circles around the bounty hunter, flapping his bent elbows at high speed in vain attempts at flight. "Bawk-kaw!"

Amarant took an angry swipe at the cavorting monkey.

The blonde easily sidestepped the attack. "Ooh, he's angry now! Bawk-bawk! Come on, chicken, you can't catch me!"

"I swear, if you don't shut up I'll tear you apart!" he shouted.

"Ooh, had enough, eh?" He jumped about some more, still flapping. He shot behind the redhead and kicked him in the behind. "A regular tough-guy, aren't ya?"

"Back off!" he snarled, spinning around.

"Come on, you pansy! Bawk-bawk-kaw!" He span in the air, still flapping.

"You friggin' loon! Get lost!" spat Amarant.

Zidane scratched at the ground with his boot like a foraging hen, bobbing his head back and forth. "Bawk-bawk! Come get me, you soddy monk! Or are you afraid to leave your hens unattended?" The others had begun to laugh openly.

"I'll cave your friggin' face in!" threatened the man savagely.

"Woo, I'd like to see that!" he said, jumping high into the air.

Amarant was seeing red. The monkey would be the death of him someday, he knew it. "You worthless thief, I'll have your eyes!"

"Come and get 'em, chicken-man!" The thief waved his posterior at him shamelessly.

"_YOU…_"

"Bawk! Can't touch this!"

The blue-skinned giant tore after the capering thief like a raging bull. "I'LL KILL YOU!"

Zidane ran for the tent, still acting like a chicken. "Woo! You gotta run faster than that, bawk-kaw!"

The others followed after them quickly.

As they closed in on the Big Top, the angry redhead finally stopped chasing the tailed boy, common sense overriding his rage. On top of that, people were beginning to stare. He looked about for the thief, who had taken cover amongst the masses. He waded through the crowd stiffly, not sure of what to do. The buzzing had still not ceased, if anything, it had gotten louder. Giving one last, half-hearted sweep across the moving crowd he turned and began to retreat back to the city gates.

His attempt to escape didn't go unnoticed, however. The giant hadn't gotten far when an energetic bundle leapt out of the crowd onto his shoulders.

"Ha! Tried to get away, did you?" sniggered the thief.

"Get off me," Amarant snapped.

"Yeehaw!"

"Stop it, people are staring."

"And what image do you have to preserve?"

Freya came running towards them. "Zidane! Hurry up! We have the tickets, and the show is starting in ten minutes!"

"Well good riddance!" said the bounty hunter, shaking the thief from his shoulders. "I'm leaving this insane asylum! Hope I never see you lot again!" He started for the city gates.

"Oh, no you don't!" cut in Zidane. "You can't leave!"

"I'm already gone!"

"Not without money, you aren't!" he called after him.

Amarant stopped. He felt were his purse should have been. "Wha? You spineless thief!"

"Ha ha!" The tailed boy threw the hunter's leather money pouch into the air and caught it. "Watch the show and you'll get it back."

"Not on you're life!" he bluffed. He needed his purse back. What little there was inside was all he had, and he would need every penny.

"Don't you try to pull that one on me! You're bluffing, and I know it!"

The redhead glared at him fiercely.

The purse flew from one of the thief's hands to the other.

"Ffff… All right," he said at last. "I'll go. But I won't like it."

"I knew you'd see things my way!"

"Would you two hurry up?" scolded the Burmecian.

Zidane tried to wrap an arm around the red-haired man. "Yeah, let's go, buddy!"

"Don't push your luck," sneered Amarant.

The other four had saved them all seats. Having finally gotten his meagre funds back, Amarant begrudgingly took a seat with the others. Zidane sat beside the Alexandrian Queen, earning a reproachful glance from the Pluto Captain. Freya sat between Eiko and Vivi, who were the most excited of the group.

The buzzing had gotten louder, nearly drowning out all other sounds. The bounty hunter resisted the urge to scream in aggravation as the lanterns were dimmed to signal the start of the show.

Silence fell over the audience as the lights were completely extinguished.

"_Ladies and Gentlemen! Boys and Girls!_" There was a loud crack and a cloud of violet smoke erupted from the shadowed centre ring. The smoke dissipated to reveal the Ringmaster, bowing with his top hat in his right hand, while a black whip took residence in his left. "_Welcome to the Eccentric Circus!_" Several flares exploded from the ground around the border of the performance area, shedding light about the ring. A band began to play, and a score of performers filed out from behind the curtained backstage, circling the master of ceremonies before marching back to were they had emerged. "_We will perform for you feats of the body and mind of which you have never seen before!_" The performers continued to pour from the backstage. "_To entertain you will be some of the world's finest clowns, acrobats, animal trainers and freaks of nature!_" He cracked his whip soundly, sending the remaining performers scattering into the shadows. The Ringmaster scanned the crowd with a keen eye. "_Now, let the show begin!_" The man vanished in another puff of smoke. Shadow encased the entirety of the Big Top.

Spotlights suddenly shone from overhead, resting on the multiple figures that had been scattered by the crack of the ring master's whip. The performers, seven in all, were huddled in their own corners of the master ring, dressed in formfitting white clothes. The band restarted, and as one the seven actors jolted, looking up at the assembled audience. They all wore masks. Amarant cringed from where he sat. The masks were hideous. Each one was different, though they all followed a theme. Warped glass and glossy clay melded together to make snarling faces of unearthly creatures, exaggerated teeth glinting in the circus light. The Giant looked around, no-one seemed to be fazed by this as the seven acrobats began their routine, there were no upset mothers or disturbed children. Three of the white, slender figures wound about the very edges of the performance space, running an outstretched hand over the heads of the foremost members of the audience while the remaining four huddled in the centre ring. The bounty hunter found himself to be rather glad they hadn't been able to get front row seats.

One of the acrobats reached the row far ahead of the companions, stopping in its trek. Tilting its head in a most unnatural angle it looked up towards the seven heroes, the four fingers on its extended hand trembling slightly as it scanned them over.

The others seemed to be completely unfazed by the performer's stare. Amarant, on the other hand, wasn't liking it at all. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat on the elevated bench. The lanky acrobat instantly reverted its attention to him at the movement, pinning him with a blank stare. Its outstretched hand clenched into a fist, hissing softly it back-flipped to where its clones waited in the middle ring, engaged in constructing a living pyramid.

"Did you see that?" the redhead whispered to Freya.

"Hmm?" replied the dragon knight, not looking away from the spectacle before her.

"That… thing! It hissed at us," he said.

She shook her head absently. "I didn't hear anything."

He blinked. How could she, of all of them, not have heard it? She easily had the keenest hearing out of the lot of them. "What about those masks?" he tried. "Not very kid-friendly."

"Shh!" admonished Eiko from other side of the Burmecian.

"There's nothing wrong, Coral, just watch," said the knight dismissively.

The bounty hunter huffed in surprise. She couldn't be that absorbed could she? He let the matter lie for now, maybe he was just getting jumpy. Maybe he was just tired.

The seven performers had completed their first pyramid, earning a hearty round of applause from the audience. Even Zidane, a talented acrobat himself, seemed impressed. The septuplet broke formation to begin on another organic build. The redhead kept an eye on the one performer that had singled them out before. In its own way, the entertainer did the same, keeping its head cocked at an unhealthy angle to hold a constant gaze in the heroes' direction. The other two acrobats who had patrolled the edge of the ring were doing the same, the man noticed, keeping a dark gaze trained on whatever target they had chosen.

The buzzing hadn't let up. It pulsed in the giant's brain maddeningly, drowning out nearly everything but the performance band, who had begun to pick up the pace of their current tune, an accordion leading the rest of the instruments. The hum became entwined with a faint whisper. The redhead abandoned his vigil to look for the new intrusion. But like the insistent buzz, the hiss had no source. The whisperings began to rapidly increase in volume, making his confused and unhappy brain ach. He closed his eyes and covered his ears, anything to block out the sound. The world had become nothing but a back pit.

A tiny tug on his green cuff brought him out of his state torment, banishing the whisperings, but leaving the buzz intact. He looked down. Vivi stared back up at him from under his crooked hat. "A-are you alright, m-Mr. Amarant?" he asked.

The hunter looked back to the flat performance area as another, much louder round of applause rose into the air. The seven white acrobats, their routine finished, had begun to retreat to behind the backstage curtain, bowing low. "Why do you ask?" he managed.

"You w-were h-huddled over like that f-for a while. I-I thought you feeling s-sick."

He started at this. He had covered his ears for only a second, hadn't he? The little mage was still staring at him. "I'm fine, Vivi," he said at last.

"O-okay," said the black mage.

The Ringmaster returned to the centre stage from behind the purple curtain to another show of applause. "Thank you, thank you," he said, bowing. "How are you all enjoying our show?" he called out, putting a gloved hand around his ear to, presumably, hear better. Loud whoops and clapping answered him. He staggered back a few steps from the force of the response, much to the delight of the children. "Good! Good! That makes us all very happy!" he said, tipping his hat. He scanned the crowd again from under his top hat, not missing a single figure. "Well then, give a healthy hand for our next performance! Please welcome our high-wire contortionists, Kad and Ada!" Applause exploded from every pair of hands as the spotlights were trained on two figures perched high above the crowd.

High-wire contortionists? The bounty hunter thought the title over. He had heard of contortionists, and high-wire performers, but not a combination of the two.

The two new performers sat on their own small shelves, both to their own tightrope, their heads rolled to opposite sides. Sitting like rag dolls, neither moved in their seat. The music started, the same unseen accordion leading the band. The two acrobats rolled their heads up with the beginning of the beat, standing with timed precision. Dressed in darker, reddish-purple outfits they, too, wore masks. Mirrored opposites of each other, the masks were detailed on only one half of the face. Kad's was featureless on the left side, warped into a sad expression on the right, coated in dark gloss. Ada's was smooth on the right side, twisted into a wide, toothy grin on the left, painted in light, reflective colours. The twin figures cart-wheeled from their respectful shelves onto the high-wire in perfect synchronisation, halting in the exact middle of their tightropes, legs in the air. The crowd was already clapping. Keeping their legs together, the contortionists began to bend their backs towards each other, nearly making a pair of sideways 'v's' in the air. More whistles and whoops filled the atmosphere with the new wave of applause.

Amarant didn't add his hand to the crowd's applause, his mind lost in another wave of fog as he watched the two lithe performers split and bend over the heads of the Alexandrian people. More unfamiliar thoughts came washing past his vision, smothering his conscious. The buzzing got louder again.

_Were…ar…e…oing?_

Kad and Ada continued their routine for the mass enjoyment of the audience.

_Ka…da! Ge…t…th…way!_

The world was going dark.

_Pr…mise…me!_

Where did the light go?

_Promise me!_

Who?

_Break the mirror!_

"Wasn't that fine, Ladies and Gentlemen?"

Amarant snapped out of his reverie. The master of ceremonies had returned, the twin contortionists gone. Clapping filled the air.

"Good! Now-" A string of honks cut the man off in mid-speech. From the backstage came two clown characters, one short, and one tall. Like all the performers before them, they wore masks over their faces, these ones bright and grinning. The short one ambled up to the Ringmaster, still honking a little squeeze horn in his hand. The children were already laughing. "What are you doing out here?" demanded the Ringmaster. "It's not your turn!"

The clowns honked their horns in protest, shaking their heads vigorously.

The Ringmaster shook a reproachful finger at them. "You go back there and wait your turn!"

More negative honks from the horns. The children were laughing crazily. Eiko and vivi were clearly enjoying themselves.

"Oh, alright!" huffed the Ringmaster.

The clowns honked and did a little jig.

The man began to walk off. The smallest clown honked crazily, catching the Ringmaster by the coat-tails, making him swing around back to where he had been standing before. The man tapped his foot impatiently. "What now? You have your turn, what more do you want?"

The short clown motioned for the Ringmaster to lend a confidential ear, honking very quietly. The man complied. The taller clown came up beside him and leaned over as well, wanting to listen in, ear pressed against the Ringmaster's head. Taking off a white glove the man whapped the taller clown with it, making him back away as the shorter one finished 'talking'. Nearly everyone was at least chuckling by now.

"I see," said the Ringmaster, straightening his top hat and replacing his glove. "Well, I'll ask them." He faced the crowd. "It seems these two need a volunteer!" he announced. The two clowns waved both their hands and honked their horns. "Who would be… brave enough to assist them?"

The short clown spotted someone to stage left, honking his horn crazily. Diving between the sitting people he wove to where a young woman was seated, honking and pointing frantically. She blushed deeply as the little clown pulled her out of her seat and lead her to the centre ring.

"We have a volunteer!" announced the Ringmaster. The taller clown had disappeared behind the backstage curtain, to return with the customary props for a magic act. The slick master of ceremonies came up to the young woman and took her hand. "And what is your name, miss?" he asked courtly, taking off his hat in greeting.

The girl went red in the face, smiling. "Viola," she replied sheepishly.

"Give a hand for Viola!" he called out, putting his hat back on.

Viola went a deeper shade of pink as the crowd clapped madly.

The two clowns had finished setting up their props, presenting a small table with a star-speckled cloth draped over it. A magician's wand rested on the table, though there was no hat to complete the set. Realising this problem, the shorter clown waddled towards the preoccupied Ringmaster, reached up and snatched his top hat from his head. Laughs sounded all over as the man felt the air space over his head questioningly.

The taller clown took the young 'volunteer' by the hand and brought her to the tiny magic table. The shorter clown took both the wand and the Ringmaster's hat in his hands, waving the black stick importantly. Silence fell over the audience, a dramatic drum roll sounding from the unseen band as the diminutive entertainer made circles in the air with the wand and then tapped the hat three times. Passing the wand to the taller clown forcefully he stuck his hand in the hat's depths. Not finding anything he shook the hat vigorously, turning it upside down, and finally shoving his nose inside in attempts to see just what he had wanted from it in the first place. Every child was laughing hysterically.

Huffing, the short clown gave the hat to Viola, whacking the other clown in the stomach as he tried to balance the wand on his nose. Jolting back to the task at hand the taller of the two entertainers gave the wand to the young woman, reaching over the head of the other. Now that she had both items, the shorter clown gave her silent instructions to repeat what he had just done. Going red she complied, the drum roll sounding again as she waved the wand and tapped the ringmaster's hat three times. Nothing happened. The clown motioned for her to shake the hat upside down. Upon doing so, water poured out of the black top hat, making the girl jump. The clowns honked enthusiastically. The crowd laughed and applauded.

Taking his hat back, the Ringmaster escorted the volunteer back to her seat as the two clowns took their props and vanished behind the curtains.

"Now," said the man, returning to the middle of the clearing. "We may let the show continue!"

A throng of acrobats dressed in clashing shades of red and green filed out from the backstage, rolling three wide trampolines out with them. Their dark masks glinted in the spotlights as they set up and got into position. With a cue from the band the troupe began to leap about on the trampolines in time, weaving between each other expertly, some jumping high, others low. The crowd oohed and awed at the troupe's aerial tricks.

The infernal buzzing continued to hammer on his tired mind. Rubbing his temples the redhead deftly left his seat and made for the exit for some fresh air. From behind the purple backstage curtain, multiple pairs of eyes watched him leave.

Outside the tent the buzzing lessened, to his mind, considerably. Heaving a sigh of relief Amarant shut the noise of the event going on inside the tent from his senses, taking great breaths of the fresh air. The intermission would have come up sooner or later, he just couldn't wait.

The sky was still black. Still no stars shone. Still no moon. Even with his trained vision the giant couldn't see very far past the dim border of lights that dangled from the tent lines.

Great bursts of applause told him that the trampoline act had just ended.

He could just leave. It was possible, he was outside, after all, and no-one had come out to stop him yet. He took a few steps in the general direction of the Alexandrian city gates.

A rustling from the fields ahead of him stopped him dead in his tracks. He waited, standing still, but the sound didn't come again. He took another step, closing in on the tent's weak boundary of light. Another rustling noise rose from the tall grasses, now to his side. Whipping his head around he caught a glimpse of something dark and large shooting through a break in the wild grass. He thought quickly, he didn't have his claws, he had left them at the Castle. Damn! The grasses were now silent, though the bounty hunter could sense that something was still watching him.

"Amarant!"

The big man jumped.

"There you are!" continued the aggravatingly familiar voice.

He spun around. "What are you doing here?"

"Intermission," replied the monkey.

As if to support the thief's claim, other members of the audience had begun to file out from the Big Top, stretching and smiling.

"You were gonna leave, weren't you?" interrogated Zidane.

"It crossed my mind," replied the redhead.

"Oh come on! You can_not_ tell me you didn't enjoy at least some of that!"

"I find it rather hard to get in to such things, Zidane," he said simply. "I'm not a child."

"So? There were lots of adults there too! They were having just as good a time in there as their kids!"

"That's them. Not me."

"Why?" he asked seriously. "Why can't you 'get in to' a circus performance?"

He shook his head. "I just can't. Look, why does it even matter to you? You're having a great time, right? So whatever, go enjoy yourself."

Zidane's expression didn't change.

"What?" he asked in exasperation.

"At least come and watch the rest, okay? Vivi's feeling bad about bringing this place up because you're acting so weird."

"Then tell the kid it's not his fault!"

Zidane glared at him. "You know he's sensitive-"

"I will _not_ be made into the antagonist here!" shouted the bounty hunter. "If you want to point fingers blame yourself! You were the one who agreed to the idea in the first place!"

"What's g-going on?" came a new voice.

The two quarrelling men fell silent.

Vivi came up to them, looking up at them both from under his tall hat. "You two w-weren't arguing were you?"

"Aah, no," said Zidane, smiling. "We were just having a little chat."

_You filthy liar_, thought Amarant.

The little mage pinned his glowing gaze on the redhead. "H-how come you left early, Mr. Amarant?"

"I needed some fresh air, that's all," he replied.

"Oh, okay. See you two back inside," he said, heading back into the tent.

Zidane watched him leave. Reverting his gaze back to the pale giant his face returned to its former scowl.

"What's the matter with you now?" he asked tersely, getting angry himself.

"I don't believe you…"

"What?"

"You 'just needed some fresh air'?"

"At least I don't _lie_," he shot.

The blonde gave him a fiery glare. "Don't you give me any of that! You left to leave!"

"On the contrary," he sneered, "it was an afterthought."

Zidane threw up his hands. "I will never understand you! Sometimes I wonder why I let you join us in the first place!"

"What does it matter? You spared my life. I repaid my debt. You hounding me after all that was your decision, not mine. You could have let go, but you didn't."

The thief pinched the space between his eyes, an ironic chuckle escaping his lips. "You know…" he said, shaking his head. "You're right. For the first time I dare to admit, you're right. I could have stopped caring, like you said." He paused, looking up at nothing. "But I can't."

The red-haired man said nothing, peering at the boy through his thick dreadlocks.

"Maybe I should have. Just left it all and started over. Clean slate. No regrets."

Amarant tilted his head slightly in puzzlement, he had never heard the thief talk like this before. "Something bothering you?" he said.

Zidane looked up at him. "Ha! You're asking me that?"

The other folded his arms over his chest.

"I don't know…" he sighed, scratching the back of his head, looking at the ground. "Maybe…"

The folks around them had begun to file back into the Big Top, signalling that the show was about to restart. The feeling of being watched from afar still hadn't left the giant.

"Better get back to our seats, or somebody'll take 'em," said the redhead, guiding the thief back to the entrance.

"You're going to stay?" he asked, slightly surprised.

"Might as well… you paid my way," he muttered. He suppressed a shudder as they were admitted back in, ooh he was going to hate himself for this for a _long_ time. But he didn't exactly want to go toe-to-toe with whatever was out there in the grasses, either.

They sat themselves back down in their seats, Vivi looking quite happy that the both of them came back. The lights instantly dimmed to total darkness.

"Welcome back, friends!" came the voice of the Ringmaster, who was greeted with a hearty string of applause as a spotlight shone upon his form.

Amarant could not help but truly begin to dislike that man. The way he scanned the crowd almost hungrily bothered him, and beneath his bright smile he felt an underlying motive festering with something quite different from the cheerful personality of a noble show host.

"Let us begin the last half of our show with some juggling! Please welcome our talented entertainers, Hura and Gora!" The crowd clapped enthusiastically as the duo wheeled out from backstage on glittering unicycles, each juggling their own set of wicker bundles. Cycling around the inner ring they halted to face each other, balancing on their stationary transport as they threw their props higher and higher. The Ringmaster power-walked about the performance ring. "Do you all wish to see something a little more exciting?" he called out. The crowd cheered. The man's gaze narrowed underneath his hat. "Then how about a little _fire_…"

The wider ends of the wicker sticks instantly burst into flame. The juggling duo didn't so much as finch, passing to each other calmly as they kept their initial throws steady. The masks of the entertainers glinted evilly in the moving firelight, streaks of orange glaring off the raised ridges of the sinister faces. The performers' hair was untied, clumps melding together to form short, thick dreads, giving them both the appearance of porcupines. Hura, dressed in jester's clothes, stopped throwing back to his partner, his loop of blazing torches growing. Gora, fitted in a multi-piece leotard suit made from black cloth with streaks of glitter, tossed all his remaining flaming sticks to the other, holding up his free hands. The crowd applauded as Hura's fiery loop blazed in the dark tent.

Amarant stared at them blankly, the chasm at the back of his mind yawning wider as he watched. The fog returned.

_How do you like that?_

More applause.

_You will do as I say…_

Why such horrible masks?

_Let's make this a little more interesting…_

Look at those torches fly.

_Bring out the knives…_

"Look! Look!" Vivi was tugging on his cuff again. "Look, Mr. Amarant! They're adding knives!"

The man was brought again back to the real world. Why was this happening? He looked to where the excited mage was pointing. One of the white acrobats from the start of the show had returned from the backstage, carrying several oversized knives to the propless juggler.

"Let's make this a little more interesting!" cheered the Ringmaster.

Gora, balancing carefully on his unicycle, reached down to take the knives one by one, tossing them up in the air as he prepared the next blade.

"Let me inform you all that these are authentic butcher's knives!" shouted the Ringmaster as Gora's loop grew in size. There was a collective gasp from the crowd. "In no way have they been dulled or tampered with! As intended, they may cleave through flesh and bone as easily as a spoon through pudding!"

The knives were flying in time with the torches, the light of the multiple fires flashing over the polished blades. Both entertainers remained unintimidated by their deadly cargo, catching and tossing the fatal props higher and higher still.

"And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, a true feat of precision and grace!"

The two jugglers began to toss to one another. The torches and cleavers flew past each other smoothly, spinning towards the hands of the opposite performer with a trained throw. The blaze of the torches and the dark sheen of the knives left the entire audience breathless. One poor throw, one miscalculated catch, and it would all be over for either of the juggling duo. Decreasing the height of the glowing, shining arc of death, Hura and Gora began to ride their cycles in a tight circle, still throwing.

Miraculously keeping the arc from falling apart, the duo slowed their antics, stilling the cleavers and extinguishing the torches. Holding up both sets of props in their hands, Hura the burnt wicker bundles, Gora the butcher's knives, they halted their cycles to face the majority of the audience, bowing as well as they could. The silence of the crowd was broken with a cacophony of cheers and clapping. Driving around the inner ring once more the two jugglers vanished behind the backstage curtain.

The tent remained dark, the spotlight trained on the Ringmaster. "Friends, now we bring you something most dark and strange," he said, gaze glinting over the assembled civilians. "This next act," a single trainer emerged from the backstage, leading a large, tall figure draped entirely in a violet cloth, out into the centre ring by a thick chain. "Is not for the faint of heart," continued the master of ceremonies. "We, of The Eccentric Circus, bring you the most freakish creature nature has to offer!" The trainer, a buff character wearing metal studded belts, gloves, and an executioner's dark, pointed mask, halted the mystery-beast's walk at the centre of the bare stage. Four, spindly legs could be seen jittering beneath the concealing drape, whether they were pawed or hoofed, the bounty hunter could not tell. "But!" added the man, finger in the air. "We guarantee that, for as long you remain silent, it is harmless!" The darkness clung to the atmosphere, the stark spotlights resting over the Ringmaster and the creature making the tent feel all the more tense.

"Is there a mage in the audience?" he called out suddenly.

Whisperings filled the assembled crowd.

"In order to assure you all that this next act is no mere illusion, we need a mage to declare that this stage is clear of magic foolery!"

Amarant began to sweat as the Ringmaster's yellow gaze scanned over the audience again, resting on their row. Vivi hesitantly put up his hand. The giant wanted to stop him, to force his small arm back down, but he was frozen, the sheer will of the man in the top hat locking his limbs. He prayed that the Ringmaster would miss the young mage's gesture.

"We have a volunteer from the centre row! Come on down, dear boy!"

The diminutive black mage stood up from his seat and began to navigate to the performance area.

The circus leader met the magic user at the edge of the outer ring, extending a hand. He lead Vivi to the front of the clearing, under the full glare of the second spotlight. "You are an experienced user of the magicks, aren't you?" he asked Vivi, loud enough for all to hear.

The shy mage nodded.

The man grinned. "Tell us, do you sense any illusion spells here? Any mischief that would fool the sight of our audience or your friends?"

Looking over the space slowly, the mage shook his head. "I d-don't feel anything."

"So prepare yourselves!" called out the Ringmaster, keeping a hand on the mage's shoulder to prevent him from leaving. "For now our master trainer shall reveal to you the mysteries of our prize freak, Xio!"

The studded trainer tore the violet cloth from the tall, four-footed beast.

Amarant's heart froze.

"Remember, we need absolute silence!" hissed the ringmaster. Vivi still had his back to the unveiled freak; he was shaking visibly where he stood. He wasn't very sure he wanted to see what was behind him.

The bounty hunter couldn't tear his gaze from the beast as it jittered in place, shifting from one pair of feet to the other.

It was hideous.

_You disgusting reject…_

It was grotesque.

_You are a shame to us all…_

It was indescribable.

"You have one last task, little one," whispered the Ringmaster to Vivi. The freak made a terrible noise at the man's speech, like a baby's cry. "You needn't be afraid." Vivi was shaking as the thing huffed behind him. "It cannot harm you. All you need to do," he continued, slowly turning the reluctant mage around to face the freak, "is name Xio an animal." The little magic user could say nothing as he gazed up at the beast.

It continued to shift in place, saliva oozing from its horse-like muzzle. Corded flesh pulsed in time with a misshapen heart. Smokey eyes gazed all around, without pupil or iris. It huffed as it swayed from the constant motion of its own legs, its head moving from side to side rhythmically at the top of its shouderless neck. The trainer's chain hung about the creature's form somewhere in the middle, with dark-coloured, mismatched flesh pulsing all around it.

Vivi stared up at the thing.

"Don't be afraid," hissed the Ringmaster. "Take Xio's chain." The executioner-like trainer held the thick chain of metal links out to the mage. The circus leader took the links with one hand, and Vivi's trembling hand with the other. He pressed the chains into the mage's hand, forcing his fingers to wrap around it.

Vivi gripped the chains tightly, unable to tear his eyes from the freak jittering before him.

"Now, young mage, tell Xio your name."

The freak snorted, making a short cry with its terrible voice.

"Don't be afraid."

The mage was helpless against the man's persuasion. "I-I…" he tried.

"Go on," coaxed the Ringmaster.

"I'm v-Vivi."

Xio made a high wail in response, its flesh trembling visibly.

Vivi jumped at the awful noise. The circus master kept a firm hold on his shoulders. "He's just saying hello," he assured the mage. "He likes you. Now name an animal, Vivi. Any animal."

The young mage hesitated. The audience was spellbound in complete silence. "Ch-Chocobo," named the magic user.

Xio made a squawking noise. Instantly its form bubbled and melted, changing in colour and texture. In seconds a full, yellow-plumaged bird stood before the mage.

The entire crowd gasped in amazement. Amarant couldn't believe his eyes.

Xio was a shape-shifter.

The freak's new form put Vivi at ease.

"Good. Try another," said the Ringmaster.

"U-um… a c-cat."

Xio made another noise, its new form melting down to create a pristine-furred feline.

"One more, young mage," whispered the Ringmaster. "Something awesome."

The young mage considered his next choice. "A d-dragon."

With a long whistle Xio's body contorted again, forming into a massive, steaming dragon-creature with iridescent scales.

Having had enough, Vivi handed the chain back to the trainer.

Taking the chain the buff character draped the cloth back over the shape-shifter's body, silencing it and forcing it to revert back to its natural form. With a small tug on the chain he lead the jittery thing away back behind the curtain.

The Ringmaster threw up his arms. "Fantastic job, master Vivi!" he cheered, shaking the little mage's hand. "You have commanded the talents of the world's strangest creature! Ladies and Gentlemen, a round of applause for our fine young mage!"

The entire audience exploded with cheers, whistles, whoops and thunderous clapping.

Blushing under his hat, Vivi made his way back to his seat.

"Friends! We, of the Eccentric Circus, thank you for your humble attendance! That is the end of our performance! Farewell and Adieu!" The master of ceremonies vanished in a last puff of purple smoke to the cheers of the masses.

The lights returned, bathing the entire tent in a wholesome glow. The applause continued for several long seconds until the people of Alexandria began to file out from their elevated seats.

* * *

**That's it for now! But stay tuned! More is coming your way in a short two weeks!**


	4. P1: iii

**DISCLAIMERS: Zidane and his fool-hardy followers all belong to Squaresoft and/or Square Enix. I'll figure out which one it is eventually, I'm just too lazy.**

**BUT all the rest of that wierd-ass stuff is mine.**

**This chapter may be a little slow, but bear with me; chaos and mayhem await!**

* * *

**iii - It's All Fun and Games**

The seven former heroes made their way out of the tent with the flow of happy audience members.

"That was awesome!" cheered Eiko, skipping happily at the front.

"Yeah!" agreed Vivi.

"That was quite some show," said Freya.

"I don't recall a performance like that ever coming to Alexandria before," mused Steiner.

"I rather enjoyed it," said the Queen. "How about you, Zidane?"

The monkey winked. "They were good… but I still could've taught them a thing or two."

Amarant trailed silently at the back, keeping a sharp eye for any sign of what he had felt prowling the grasses earlier. The buzzing had gone quiet and the chasm at the back of his conscious was mercifully keeping to itself.

"You've been acting rather strange lately, Coral."

The bounty hunter turned his attention to the green-eyed Burmecian, who had slowed her pace to walk alongside him. "What's it to you?"

She remained unflustered by his terse response. "It's out of character for you. I will say with absolute conviction that I saw fear in you tonight."

"Fear?" He continued to scan the darkness. "How so?"

"When Zidane was taunting you. Even before that, at the table, you seemed… distanced. Like a child hiding in a closet."

"I don't see where this is going."

"Yes, you do. You're just being evasive," she said crossly.

The two fell silent for a few moments. The rest of the group prattled on about the show, recounting their favourite acts. The gates were well in sight, and still there was no trace of what had stalked the perimeter of the Big Top. Amarant briefly noticed that the Knight had a large ring, bejewelled with a sizable pink stone, sitting upon her finger.

"You look like you need a vacation," said Freya.

"Can't afford it," replied the redhead absently, still eying the fields around them.

"You're not even paying attention to what I'm saying!" she said heatedly.

He glared at her. "So I'm distracted! Just leave me alone!"

The knight huffed and increased her pace to walk well ahead of him.

Even after they had finally crossed the metal gates to the city within, the bounty hunter couldn't help but remain suspicious of every pocket of shadow. A sense of foreboding had taken residence over him, nearly driving him to the brink as he searched for its source.

Everyone continued to pass idle talk as they advanced in on the Castle. They went in groups across the moat, the two young magic users and the old Pluto Captain on the first gondola, the love birds and Freya in the next, and the pale redhead last and alone.

With the hour late and their energy spent, each of the former heroes parted in the foyer to retreat to their rooms. Having closed every curtain in his healthily large guest room, Amarant laid over his bed, staring into darkness. With his head hanging off one side and his legs off the other he surveyed his temporary quarters at an abnormal 180 degree rotation. From his awkward vantage point he scrutinised the undersides of the sparse furniture speckled about his lodgings. His conscious refusing to admit defeat to exhaustion the man hauled himself from the wide mattress to stalk quietly to his door. Peering outside into the dark hallways he eased his way out from behind the slab of wood. Unable to think of anything better to do with his nerves still as frayed as they were, he navigated to the Castle's admirable library.

Reaching the oak double-doors he took a candelabra from a nearby cabinet. Behind the entry shadows encased the tall shelves and their charges, giving the chamber of knowledge the atmosphere of a cemetery. Closing the doors softly behind him, Amarant wove between the silent shelves, banishing their stony shadows with the candelabra's weak light. With no particular tome in mind he browsed the aging spines. Working over to the bordering shelves around the central reading area, where he gave up his literary task and sat in the nearest chair. Though still a little small for his tastes the cushioned seat instilled a welcome sense of comfort. Reaching over to set the glowing candles on the nearby table the flickering light fell over the form of an unshelved book, set with its open pages towards the polished wood. Eying the tome for a few seconds he shrugged and picked it up.

He peered at the title. "_A Comprehensive Guide to Things That Never Should Be_," he read aloud. "And what scholar would read this?" Scoffing he turned the book over to look at the page the volume had been set to keep. An encyclopaedic list greeted him under the heading of a new chapter.

_Of Things Nightly And Dead. -_

_Here lies the nature and names of creatures and beasts most fearsome and vile. Beings such as these should be avoided by the general traveller and holy man, as they are ruthless and cruel, serving no purpose but to haunt and torment the mortal race of man._

Forgetting his earlier remark, the bounty hunter shifted the candelabra for better light.

_The Doppelganger. - A creature of many legends, the Doppelganger is most commonly referred to as a ghost who is identical to a living person. In some beliefs death will come to a man should he ever meet one. Furthermore, those who die from a meeting with a Doppelganger will be replaced by the apparition in both body and soul._

_The Ghoul. - A most fearsome demon, the Ghoul is a thankless creature that feasts off the flesh of the newly dead. They also prey on unwary travellers and will abduct children from their homes. Although most are commonly encountered alone, Ghouls will travel in small bands of four to ten, usually with the intent to raid any nearby settlements._

A thought coming to mind, Amarant leafed through the names and definitions, his finger coming to rest on a new find.

_The Shape-Shifter. A beast able to assume any form. Shape-Shifters are difficult to detect by even the most skilled of holy men and hunters of evil. Some will copy the body of whomever they wish and frame that person for misdeeds that were not of their doing, but of the creature's. In some myths, the name of the Shape-Shifter is synonymous with that of the Doppelganger._

Amarant looked up as a new light grew from behind the shelves, slowly weaving towards where he sat. Closing the book quietly he picked up the candelabra and snubbed the candles with his fingers.

"Is someone there?" came a familiar voice.

He let out a loud groan without thinking.

"Amarant? Is that you?" The light neared quickly, a blonde head poking from around the nearest shelf. "It is you!" Zidane said with a grin. "I didn't know you stayed up so late."

"I was just leaving," he said, getting up from the chair.

"No, no, stay!" urged the tailed boy, motioning for him to retake his seat.

Grunting he sat back down, wishing he had fallen asleep back in his room when he had the chance. He sat quietly as the other relit his candelabra, sitting across from the acrobatic thief.

"What's that you're reading there?" asked the monkey casually, pointing at the redhead's book.

"Nothing," he replied, stuffing the old tome away.

"Aw, come on."

"It's nothing."

"If it's nothing, then you shouldn't have a problem telling me, right?"

He shot him a glare.

Zidane held up his hands placidly. "Okay, okay. You can keep your little bedtime story to yourself."

"What is it you want? Or did you come here just to insult me?"

"Sorry, sorry," replied the thief. "I didn't think you'd be in here, actually."

"Why is that?"

"You never really seemed to be a book person."

"Well, we learn something new everyday now, don't we?" he sneered.

"Somebody's touchy this evening," he chuckled. "You're so easily offended, man! Ease up! It's just some buddy-buddy talk." He looked at the silent giant from his chair. "You know…" he continued, smile fading. "You really need a girl; you know, somebody to look out for you."

"That's the last thing I need," scoffed the redhead.

"No, really! A nice, pretty lady to welcome you back home every day, maybe some kids running around…"

"You put those thoughts out of your head right now," he said, pointing at him.

"Hee hee…I can see it now… little Amarant babies running around… in little circles…"

"Stop right there."

"With little beards and big mops of hair."

"Shut up."

Zidane began to laugh, his smile twice as big as it was before. Amarant sulked in his seat, not enjoying being the target of everyone else's amusement for the third time in one day.

"What about you?" he asked the thief.

"Huh?" the other's laughing came to a short close.

"I'm surprised you haven't married Garnet yet. Something holding you back? Another girl, perhaps?" he tried.

"…No," replied the blonde quietly. He looked at his feet.

Amarant waited for a continuation, eying the boy carefully. Since Zidane wasn't talking, he pondered over whether to push the matter or not. Figuring he had nothing to lose, he tried a different approach. "…Want to talk about it?" he said at last.

"You're offering to hear me rant about my life?"

He shrugged. "I'm not the councillor type. But if you want to lay something out, feel free."

Zidane looked at him suspiciously.

"What?"

"Did you fall on your head somewhere between now and this morning?"

The bounty hunter sighed in exasperation, hand over his eyes. "I _figured_ that you needed to get something off your chest. But whatever, I'm going back to bed." He got up from his seat, taking the old book and candelabra with him.

"Maybe there is something…" said the boy as he reached the shelves.

The big man stopped, looking over his shoulder.

"I don't know what it is…" he continued. "It just… doesn't feel the same as it was…" he trailed off.

The hunter stood in silence for a moment. "Things aren't the same as they were. Depending on the way you look at it, maybe it is. Perhaps it could just be that you're afraid of that final step."

"Which step is that?" he asked, looking up.

"Commitment."

The tailed thief was silent.

Turning away, Amarant deftly navigated back from the library to his guest room. Setting himself down he gazed at the tome he brought with him from the vault of fiction. Standing the candles beside the bed he laid back against the pillows of his mattress. Weighing the book uncertainly in his hand he thought over bringing it back to the library; besides, what good would a book like this do him? With childish curiosity winning out over arrogance he reopened the volume to a random page and began to read. At the very least it was bound to help him get to sleep.

_The Dragon. - Truly the king of otherworldly beasts, the Dragon is a formidable foe capable of--replaced by the apparition in both body and soul._

He stopped. Blinking, he went over the text again.

_The Doppelganger. -_

"What?" he said to himself. He wasn't on that page. Yet he was. Flipping back he found the entry he had been reading before. Holding the page open firmly he read it from where he had left off.

-_-formidable foe capable of devouring any man or beast. Most breeds breathe fire, while some, such as the--death will come to a man should he ever meet one._

He stopped again. Again he was reading the wrong page. Once more he found his original spot. Keeping the pages between the dragon entry and that of the doppelganger in his hand he looked at the drastic distance, page-wise, between the two. They were practically at opposite sides of the book.

"What the hell?"

He held the tome with the between pages still firmly in his grasp, staring at the yellowed paper. After several moments of utter silence he carefully closed the book, setting it away gingerly.

He stared at his feet for countless long minutes, his mind running in confused loops. What was going on? His head was starting to ach and exhaustion had finally begun to advance on him. Still laying atop the covers he shifted the pillows beneath him absently. The Sandman claiming another victim he drifted off to slumber, unheeding the wall of fog that had begun to pore from the shattered chasm in his conscious.

* * *

**Nwa! Please, stay tuned! Everything takes a definite turn for the worst in the next installment in a mere two weeks!**


	5. P2: i

**DISCLAIMERS: Zidane and his fellow questing insomniacs all belong to Squaresoft / Square Enix.**

**BUT the hallucinations are mine.**

**Thank you for being so patient, people! Now the ball really starts to roll. A little preview of the chaos to come is waiting for all you who decide to stick it out through this chapter! Nothing too totally horrible yet, so it's all still 'T'-ness.**

* * *

**Part 2: FOR THE SHOW**

**i - Something Funny**

_Everything is so cold._

_It laid shivering beside the gravel path, surrounded by tall grass. Time was running out, its strength was ebbing away. It would all be over if it didn't find a--there! There, coming up the road!_

_It shifted a little, trying to get closer to the edge of the road, laying absolutely still at the gravel's very edge._

_A traveller walked confidently up the pass, unhindered by the chill spring rain, whistling a nameless tune. The youthful stranger kept a leisurely pace, his pack slung over one shoulder. He kicked at the larger stray rocks strewn about the red gravel, sending them careening ahead of him. Catching sight of something out of place, he stopped, peering to his right. A dark bundle laid in the rain beside the path. Whether it was an animal or not he could not tell. Brushing stray strands of red hair out of his eyes he kneeled down to get a better look._

_Moving obstructing grasses out of the way he gazed at the unmoving body. It was a child, maybe no older than him. It was laying face down in the grass, barely breathing. Reaching out with a tentative hand he rolled the child over._

_He gasped as he stared into his own face._

"GAH!" Amarant shot into a sitting position on his bed, breathing heavily.

The sun was filtering in from behind his curtains, birds twittering their song as they flew by. Blinking blearily he pushed himself from his sheets, lifting the curtains away to peer outside. The Knights of Pluto were already training in the wide fields before the Castle, moving in unison with their swords. A distant tolling of an iron bell told him that it was already nine in the morning.

His door flew open. "_There_ you are!"

He span around to stare at Eiko.

"Ah HA!" she said, pointing. She had the most unamused look on her face. "You were sleeping in!"

"Is there a problem with that?" he replied sourly. He had nearly forgotten about the blue-haired little girl. Too bad.

"Yes!" she shouted importantly. "Breakfast was over an hour ago!"

"So?"

"You missed it!"

"Then I'll catch lunch," he said simply, getting angry.

"You can't have lunch for breakfast, you weirdo!"

"I don't care if it's dinner, so beat it!"

"Say you're sorry!" she huffed.

That's where he drew the line. "Get out."

"Not until you say--"

"GET OUT!"

The adopted princess jumped and ran from his door.

Huffing from the exertion of early-morning yelling he stalked quickly over to the door and shut it. He leaned against the wood with a long sigh. Another day of hell. Ug. With any luck he could leave before nightfall and get back to Treno. Or maybe even this morning. A loud protest from his gut voiced otherwise. "Alright, later," he told himself. Food always came first. He felt his hair and frowned. "That and a good clean-up," he muttered.

Stalking over to the washroom he threw off his green cuffs and shirt, leaving the animal fang he kept to hang about his neck. Closing the bathroom door halfway behind him he turned to the tub, noting with some distaste that it was made for people much smaller than he was. Rolling his eyes he kneeled down to turn on the taps, testing the warmth of the water before letting it fill the white bath. Angling to face the mirror he looked over himself critically. He rubbed his chin; seems as though he needed to shave. Peering at his reflection he caught something out of place moving past the partially open door. He stopped minding his renegade stubble and kept a fierce gaze on the mirror, watching the opening leading into the bedroom. He waited. _That damn kid_, he thought, _it must be Eiko_.

The tub was nearly full to the brim. Adverting his gaze he quickly stilled the flow from the faucet. As he knelt a soft creak sounded behind him, whirling around he saw that the bathroom door had opened itself wider. He remained stationary where he was, listening for any giveaway as to who the intruder might be. He waited patiently. Nothing came. Huffing, Amarant got up and stood in the doorway. Glaring out across his room, he scanned the chamber for any sign of what was trying so hard to make him angry. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary he turned back to the pristine washroom. The sound of something brushing past cloth caught his ears. Not turning around he instead stared at the mirror, waiting for his harasser's reflection to show upon the surface. His face hardened as a slender, pale hand slithered from the opposite side of his unmade bed. An equally pale arm followed, tensing to heft the connecting body after it. The bounty hunter stood still. A mess of red hair rose from behind the tussled bed sheets, the second hand following with it, slowly exposing the thin form of a child, moving as though dredging itself from water. Pulling itself upright the youth stared right back at the big man through the mirror with piercing green eyes. Finally snapping, Amarant spun around to face the child.

There was nothing.

His room was empty? He swallowed. Sweeping the room again from where he stood he tried frantically to find any trace of the youth. An unpopulated four-wall expanse was all that answered his search. Taking a few deep breaths he turned back to the mirror. _Just my imagination_, he thought to himself. His eyes caught on something in the looking glass. He sucked in a pressured breath. There. The child was still there, only it was standing in front of the bed now. _How?_ The child began to shake, taking slow steps towards the bathroom door, eyes rolling up into the head. The red haired man spun his head around. Nothing. Nothing was there. This wasn't right, there was nothing that could move fast enough to hide so quickly. Sweating he looked back again. Again the child met his gaze through the polished surface of the mirror, still making for the door. Shaking with increasing violence it reached out towards him, eyes rolled back so far that only the red-veined whites were visible. Shivering in place he watched as it neared through its uneven gate, unable to move. Closer, closer it inched, bare feet making no sound against the carpet. With an inhuman hiss its outstretched fingers curled wickedly, emulating claws. In a cold rush, the former convict twisted around and slammed the door shut, holding the brass knob firmly in his grasp.

He waited. Whatever it was would try to open the door, right? But it couldn't get in as long as he held it shut. Sweat trailing down the sides of his face he watched the sliver of daylight shimmering through the underside of the door, keeping alert for any change in its consistency lest something pass by.

The man remained plastered to the door for many silent moments, unmoving and hardly breathing. Still, nothing came. Nothing fought against his hold on the door. Nothing moved against the beam of light on the floor. There was nothing. Keeping a white grip on the door knob he hazarded a glance at the betraying mirror. What stared back at him was his own face, fraught with fear. He held his own gaze, slowly claming down. Nothing was out of place in the reflection. Regaining his poise he reluctantly released the metal door handle. With still no reaction from the other side he let out a long breath. "I must be seeing things," he told himself. "Nerves, that's all." He made a small laugh. "Amarant, man," he scolded to himself, pulling off the belt of his pants, "you're acting like a juvenile." Kicking of his forest green slacks he lowered himself into the bath, casting one last glance to the mirror before sinking in completely.

With a long sigh he let the warm water soak his dreads, allowing the clumps to part and the strands to separate for the first time in heavens knew how long. Letting the feeling of stress and uncleanliness wash away from him he closed his eyes in ease.

Welcoming darkness swept in, followed by a familiar haze.

A distant drumming filled his ears.

_It's so dark._

It's like a heartbeat.

_Let me stay. It's so warm._

Something seemed to rush past him.

…_Come to me, child…_

The warmth was gone, replaced by a chill. He hit the ground, it felt like unforgiving stone.

He was below the water of the tub.

Coughing and sputtering Amarant sat up in the oblong fixture, taking in great breaths of air. Clearing his lungs he calmed down. He must have fallen asleep. He look around.

The bathroom door was open.

He grasped the side of the tub, ears straining to hear… anything. Sitting still in the cooling water he shifted his gaze once again to the mirror. Nothing was reflected in the polished surface. The man slumped slightly, his breath easing. He was imagining things. Illusions conjured by a tired mind, nothing more, surely.

His whole body was yanked forward as the chain of his beast tooth jumped from his chest. Wrapping itself around his neck it began to choke him. Gasping for breath the bounty hunter clutched at the end of the metal links, trying to grab whatever had taken a hold of the pendant. Air met his groping hands.

His swimming vision fell to the churning waters. His eyes went wide as he caught wavering there the reflection of the same child, pulling on the glittering chain with both hands. The green eyes met his blurring gaze and rolled back into the head, a silent snarl following closely after it. Letting out a strangled yelp, Amarant threw himself from the oblong tub, the chain snapping from his neck. Scrambling wetly about the floor he wormed past the door and slammed it shut behind him, holding onto the knob with both hands from the ground. He watched the sliver of space at the base of the bathroom door. He still saw nothing. What was going on? How was this possible? Something tried the handle. Coming back to his senses he kept his iron grip on the knob. It rattled in his grasp for a few seconds, then fell still.

A terrible shriek sounded from behind the door as something began to scratch at it with what sounded like fingernails. The scratching was broken with hammerings. From under the door Amarant could see chips of wood falling to the tiled floor. The bangings and scratchings increased in volume and intensity rapidly. The door shook madly in its frame, splinters flying from the crafted wood from the unearthly assault. The bounty hunter held the knob still for dear life.

"Amarant!"

He looked up to see Freya standing in his bedroom doorway.

Another scream sounded from behind the door, the wood splitting badly from the next barrage of attacks. Fear raging through his mind Amarant threw himself from the door and dashed out of his room, forcing the bewildered Burmecian back into the hallway as he closed the door, clutching at the handle again to keep it shut.

"What is going on? What was that noise?" interrogated the dragon knight.

A fierce thump on the door nearly shook the soggy man from his post. There was a pause. Then two more followed in rapid succession, accompanied by scratches.

"Is there somebody in there? Let go of that door!" ordered the knight.

"No!" shouted the bounty hunter, eyes wide.

A third shriek pierced through the sturdy wood.

The sound of rushed footsteps answered the alien noise as Zidane and the Alexandrian Queen came running down the red carpeted corridor. "What's going on?" shouted the thief as they stopped before the two figures.

Several more of the unearthly bangs shook the door and its frame before dying away to silence. Amarant refused to let go of the knob, breathing heavily with his knuckles white against the ornate handle.

"Amarant?…" said Zidane softly.

"NO!" the man shouted, staring wildly at the door. He was shaking from head to toe, water still dripping from his form.

Silence filled the hallway.

The four beings were still.

From behind the abused wood came a terrible noise akin to nails on chalkboard. The former travelling companions clutched at their ears at the piercing assault, each nearly doubling over in pain. The horrible noise continued for what seemed an eternity before finally stopping completely. Uncurling themselves from their pained positions, the four former heroes waited for the next round.

None came. All was quiet at last.

Freya broke the reverie. "What the hell was that?" she questioned angrily, speaking for everyone.

Amarant kept his gaze trained on the door, still grasping the handle.

"Amarant!"

"I don't know…" he replied softly.

"Liar! There's somebody in there--"

"Hold it hold it!" interrupted the tailed thief, taking a step forward. "Let's deal with this like civilised people, alright?" he said heatedly. Freya fell quiet. "Now, why don't we just open the door--"

"No!" said the bounty hunter.

"--to see what's behind it," finished the boy forcefully.

"No no no no no," repeated the stricken man, shaking his head.

"Let go of the door, Amarant," said Zidane in a softer tone.

The shaken giant pinned him with an empty stare.

Zidane took a small take from the gaze, surprised that he could physically meet the eye that gave it. "It's over, okay? Let go and we can sort this all out," he said calmly, matching the fevered green stare with the blue of his own evenly.

"You're crazy," replied the other absently.

Undeterred the boy walked forward and placed his hand on the much thicker wrist of the soaked bounty hunter. "Let go," he said again.

Amarant stared at the door, still not releasing his grip.

"Come on, buddy. Everything's fine." the acrobatic thief lifted the shaking hands from the cold metal knob.

"I hate you," hissed the giant.

Twisting the door handle with a gloved hand Zidane pushed the door open to let it swing inwards of its own accord.

The room was empty. The bathroom door had been reduced to jagged splinters, and the back of the door to the guest room had been scratched and gouged as if by an animal. Receiving a stern look from Freya, Amarant finally realised that he was rather naked. Thinking quickly, and not that clearly, he grabbed the end of the nearest window curtain and pulled it around himself for temporary coverage. That's when they saw it.

Scrawled across the combined length of the three tall guest room windows was a message.

THEY ARE COMING

A terrible shriek sounded from inside Amarant's head. The bounty hunter nearly fell to his knees from the force of the auditory assault, clutching at his ears.

"Amarant! What's wrong?" asked Zidane from the centre of the room.

"Don't you hear it?" questioned the man incredulously, the awful sound finally subsiding.

The thief shook his head in confusion. "Hear what?"

The big man blinked. What was going on? How could they not have heard that?

The dragon knight wasn't amused in the slightest. "You're staging all this, aren't you?" she questioned angrily.

Amarant pinned her with an incredulous stare. "What? No!" He got back to his feet, making sure to keep the curtain about him. "How could I stage something like this? You heard it, too! You saw the door!"

"I don't know what I saw," retorted the Burmecian.

"Obviously," huffed the bounty hunter, anger rising.

"You--!"

"Stop it, you two!" shouted the tailed boy. Both turned their heads to stare at the thief. "You're both acting like children!" he scolded. "No-one knows what happened, alright? Now if you'll all stop accusing each other, maybe we can go about this more sensibly!"

The two companions were silent. Amarant was reminded of one of the few reasons why he still held any form of respect for the youth.

"Alright," said Zidane, calming down. "Amarant, why don't you get dressed, and meet us in the dinning hall? At least then you can eat something while we try to sort this out." The blonde lead the bewildered Alexandrian Queen from the guest room, and gave Freya, with an intense glance, the incentive to do the same.

The trio shut the door behind them discretely, leaving the redhead alone. The man stood still where he was, waiting for any continuation of the unearthly attack. Much to his battered relief, nothing came. No screams. Nothing.

Heaving a long sigh, Amarant scanned his temporary chambers, still a little shaken. Making his way over to the piles of splintered wood that had once been the bathroom door he replaced his pants. He glanced back up at the abused windows, a shudder worming down his spine. THEY ARE COMING. Who was coming? A distant part of his conscious was laughing at him, screaming 'I know something you don't know' in a maniacal child's voice. His gaze travelled along the white etch of the stark line, the trail veering off to travel from the windows to the hard walls of the guest room. The ugly trench stopped directly above his bed pillow, with his beast fang lodged deep into the wall. Scowling slightly he made towards the keepsake pendant, getting atop the mattress to wrench the tooth free.

Steadying himself on the soft mattress he placed a large hand over the comparatively tiny ornament. Something flashed within his mind's eye and he abruptly pulled his hand away, eyeing the fang warily. An odd thought struck him.

_Do you remember where you got that tooth?_

Amarant blinked. The thought was so strong, it seemed as though it came from an outside source. He stood still atop the bed. …Where _did_ he attain the fang? He shook his head. Why did it matter? It was from one his first fights, he didn't have to remember which one.

_What manner of beast was it?_

The bounty hunter merely scoffed at himself and tore the tooth from the wall, not giving the inquiry such much as a whit of second thought. He stashed the pendant into his pocket and headed for the door, grabbing his shirt from the floor as he left.

* * *

His breakfast was a quiet one, as the two child mages were off capering elsewhere. He had agreed to talk the morning's events over with the monkey and his faded date, though not until after he had eaten. If he was about to spill that he had nearly been throttled by an invisible hell-child, he wanted to take the coming flak with a full stomach. He ate slowly, thoughtfully. And just how was he going to explain himself, anyway? Barrelling out of his room sopping wet and completely naked? Not something the others were going to forget anytime soon, he figured sheepishly, going red in the face.

Well, best to wing it, he figured, since nothing comforting was coming to mind.

Taking his plate in hand he left the table. Might as well drop off the wares, it would give him a little more time to think before he was forced to mash the unfitting pieces of the puzzle together. He hadn't gone far when he was nearly bowled over by a rushing crowd of armour-clad knights. "Wha!" he exclaimed, keeping a protective grip on his breakfast plate. This certainly didn't look like usual knightly conduct. Steiner came clanking at the back of the disorderly line. The bounty hunter stopped the senior knight. "Oi, what's going on? You're all running around like headless chickens."

The old knight took a few steadying breaths. He looked as though he had just been all over the castle on the span of a few minutes. "Well, if you must know," began the man. "There has been a wide string of disappearances across the city," he huffed, pausing to catch his breath.

Amarant waited for the man to continue.

"Everywhere. Men, women, children. No pattern. No evidence." The knight slumped. "I just don't understand it. We've been getting reports all morning. We hardly have any more knights to spare already."

"Shouldn't you be sending detectives or something?" the redhead questioned.

The leading knight shrugged. "All we had are already at work. The Knights of Pluto are all we can give now. With any luck, we may be able to find something with enough people looking."

The big man didn't comment.

Seeing that his squad of walking silverware had vanished ahead of him, Steiner made a hasty getaway, clanking off down the spacious hallway. Standing still beside the wall for a moment, the bounty hunter considered this disturbing news. As he thought over what the old fighter had told him, the all-consuming hum tore through his mind, blurring his senses to numbness. He scowled and closed his eyes as his head began to spin. He tried to lean against the alabaster wall for support. His questing form met only air. Where was the wall? His plate crashed to the hard floor as the world span like a maelstrom, the once clear corners of the regal hall melting and moulding into a single plane. The hum continued to grow, deafening yet unheard. The sturdy monk could hardly realise that fact that his knees had given out on him when his world suddenly burned in pain and went black.

* * *

**Wierd? Creepy? Just plain crazy? Tell me what you think! Crit of all kinds is appreicated!**

**Anywho, here's a sneak-peek of the coming mayhem, so read on!**

* * *

"Amarant?" Zidane was in front of the Queen on reflex. He looked at the fallen knight, and then back to the scarlet haired bounty hunter. "What… why did you do that?" he questioned angrily. "What is the matter with you?"

The man sneered at him. "Oh nothing's the matter," he replied darkly, fingering the tip of the poker. "I just don't want all Our planning to go to waste." He eyed the monkey savagely. "You'll all stay put if you don't want to suffer."

Zidane was livid. "You bas--" The tip of the poker was instantly embedded in his stomach. Everyone around him gasped. The Queen already had tears in her eyes. He buckled over the instrument, gripping at it feebly.

"Careful, _boy_." He twisted the poker, earning a small scream of pain from the thief. "Best to do as you're _told_." He pulled the tool from the youth's stomach forcefully, making him fall back. The Queen caught him.

"Zidane!" she cried.

The tailed boy blubbered in her arms, clutching at his wound. The Dragon Knight was at his side as well. Eiko and Vivi were speechless, eyes wide in disbelief.

"Now, then," drawled the giant. "I assume we have an understanding?" He twirled the poker.

He received multiple glares. All assembled were quiet.

He grinned savagely. "Good."

* * *

**Ho! That's all for now! Just what the heck is going on, you might ask? Stick around, and the answers will come to you in a short two weeks time!**


	6. P2: ii

**DISCLAIMERS: Zidane and his compatriots of blind justice all belong to Squaresoft and whatever Enix is.**

**BUT all the other crap is mine. MINE!**

**Yes! Chapter two of part two! Everything takes a definite dive here! Beware, oh squimmish readers, for this is where the 'horror' part of the rating comes in. Enjoy!**

**ii - Freaks**

* * *

_Everything hurt. Why did it hurt?_

_It shifted a little, twitching on the ground painfully. Its head hurt like mad. It had been struck, before the darkness had overtaken it. It could sense multiple forms shifting about it, watching keenly. Frail form quivering it chanced opening its eyes. It wanted to see its assailants._

_Glowing faces met its injured gaze, making its eyes sting. The angelic visages looked down upon it with dark eyes, as emotionless as stone. Feathers protruded from their shoulders, shining and soft. Seeing that it was coming awake, the black eyes hardened. The faces of the onlookers twisted into savage grins, laughing silently at its misery and pain._

_Why?_

"Hey! He's waking up!"

_The faces fell to shadow, melting to nothing._

"Yo! Buddy, wake up!"

Darkness gave way to light. The mocking visages replaced by worried faces he knew well.

Amarant groaned as the pain hit him.

"Amarant! You're up!" greeted the blonde thief, beaming.

"Are you feeling alright?" asked the Queen.

"W-what happened?" piped the little black mage.

"You broke a plate!" admonished the blue haired girl.

"Are you well?" chimed the rat warrior.

The bounty hunter tried to order his thoughts, his injured brain not taking to the overload very well. He tried to sit up, a move that proved to be a very bad idea. The man's head stung viciously in protest, forcing him to lay back.

"Hey, careful, man!" said Zidane. "You knocked your noodle pretty hard. You shouldn't get up yet."

"Gurg… Where am I?" he voiced at last. His voice was weak, pathetic to his own ears.

"You're in the library," answered the acrobat. "It was the closest place we could drag you to. It took four knights to get you here!"

The redhead frowned. He didn't need to hear that. "Marvellous," he muttered.

"Care to tell us what happened?" questioned the raincoat mouse.

Amarant put a hand over his face. What had happened? "I don't know. The world just started spinning all of a sudden, then… nothing."

"So you fainted?"

He didn't like the way she was scoffing the word 'faint'. "Maybe. Though I'm sure that the experience is no different than swooning over some forgetful sap."

Freya scowled at him.

"Let's not start, okay?" said Zidane in exasperation.

The Burmecian huffed snobbishly and stalked away. Getting bored with the event, Eiko grabbed Vivi by the arm and towed him off to play some game or another. Which left only the Queen and her wavering suitor.

"Have you thought of what happened in the guest room?" asked Queen Garnet.

"Thought about it?" he repeated. "I was in the middle of it. Saw it all happen. Though I swear I did none of it."

"Then who did it?" questioned the thief.

Amarant peered up at him from the still-rather small couch they had crammed him on to.

"It's not that we don't believe you… It's just that there's no trace of anyone else being in your room when it happened."

"I don't expect you to believe me," Amarant replied. "All I can do is tell what happened as I saw it."

"Then who do you think it was?" inquired the Alexandrian ruler.

The bounty hunter propped himself up into a sitting position carefully. "A… ghost."

The former love-birds exchanged glances.

"Like I said, I don't expect you to believe me. But that's what did all the damage. A ghost. A spirit of some kind." He began to shake slightly with the recollection, the hideous image of the pale child reaching for him with dead fingers…

"…Are you certain?" said Garnet at last.

"Yes." The thief was still eyeing him strangely. "Look, let's put it this way. For what reason would I stage something like that? I'm not that kind of person. I'm telling you that was what happened."

"A ghost, huh?" considered the former performer. "Well, I guess all we can do for now is keep looking for clues. Until then all we can do is speculate. All we're drawing now is blanks."

Amarant tried hard to resist the urge to throttle the thief. They didn't believe him. Then again, why should they? He may be their 'friend', if that, but he was still somewhat of a black sheep amongst this group of pristine, sinless heroes. That was enough for suspicion in any case. He sighed in defeat. No point in arguing the matter. "I need some fresh air," he said, getting up from the furniture.

The two let him leave.

He didn't even give them a backwards glance, making as quickly as he dared for the outside balconies. He was surprised to find that it was already well into the afternoon, the sun quickly descending to its rest. Standing upon the high balcony he surveyed the castle grounds. No knights sparred upon the green now, as most were probably still engaged in trying to solve the multiple missing persons reports. The man took a deep breath of the cooling air, letting it wash away his troubles. Even for just a moment, if he could only find peace…

A sudden feeling of unease came over him, similar to when he had left the circus tent the night before. Looking back over his shoulder he scanned the stone walls behind him. Was there someone… watching him? All was quiet. He continued to scrutinise the make of the castle's walls, picking apart every shadow with his sharp gaze. Feeling the approach of another he stiffened, watching his surroundings carefully. Though his head had seen better days, he was still prepared to fight should it come to blows. But he still didn't have his claws.

The sound of footsteps slowly reached his ears, emanating from the far corner of the castle below him. Keeping calm and silent Amarant trained all his senses towards the disturbance.

A Knight of Pluto came marching down the flagstone path below.

The bounty hunter let out a breath he didn't realise he had been holding in. Relaxing, he turned around to rest his back against the balcony rail. He stopped suddenly, standing directly behind him was--

* * *

It was getting late.

Zidane paced about the room he had been given, mulling over recent events. It was hopeless, nothing fit. The disappearances, the trashing of Amarant's guest room… Just when it seemed as though they were getting somewhere with all this, they would hit a dead end and have to restart from the beginning.

He threw up his hands. He needed a break from it all. Maybe he could fool the tin knight into a game of chess.

The idea growing on him he left in search of the senior knight. Leaving his room he jogged lightly down the silent hallway. The barracks would be the best place to start his search, so he headed in that direction. Reaching one of the numerous side entrances he let himself out of the immense castle. Momentarily loosing himself he gazed upwards, taking in the sheer size of the fabled Alexandria Castle. The eloquent stonework of the edifice's walls, the glimmering silver of Alexander's mighty sword… The vision filled him with awe still, even though he had more or less become a permanent resident. He sighed heavily with the thought. Yes, he _almost_ lived there. Garnet wanted him to take that final step, to stay there with her within those high walls forever. At first, he had been all for it. To be with the woman of his dreams for the rest of his life, who could argue with such a blessing? But somehow, the glamour just seemed to fade. The appeal lost its lustre. The thief wasn't sure just what it was that was making him reconsider all the luxurious things that this marriage guaranteed. Was it maybe the loss of freedom that would come with it? Or possibly that the challenge of keeping her heart in the past had been a part of her irresistibility, and now that sense of challenge was gone.

Zidane pushed the thoughts from his mind and started down the cobbled path. Maybe it was just as simple as the fear of that 'final step', like the bounty hunter had said. Who knew? He didn't.

As much as he loved Garnet there was something missing. He couldn't place what it was, but it seemed as though it was staring him right in the face, laughing at his blindness.

The evening breeze felt cool and sweet against his face, bringing a welcome sense of ease and peace to his tiring mind and form. Not everything had turned out the way everyone had expected. The Royal General, Beatrix, and the stalwart knight had never followed through on their chance meeting before Bahamut brought destruction under Kuja's command. The two drifted apart somehow, the very notion of romance fading from both their minds. The legendary General eventually was given leave from the Queen to renounce her title and duties and begin her life anew. She then left with little ceremony, at her request. The silver knight had bade her a fond farewell, though never spoke of her thence. Freya and Fratley could be said to be doing better. The amnesiac had still not regained any of his memories before his self-engaged quest, despite the measures that the other was taking to revive them. Though it was evident that there was some love, at least, between them, but how much remained was still left to be seen. The lady Dragon Knight came alone to Zidane's invitation on leave from the Burmecian King, to 'get away from the elements' as she had said. It was no small suspicion of the thief's that her former heart-throb was a part of said 'elements'. The thief shrugged to himself. It seemed as though the very notion of love was fading from all their lives.

Well, Steiner seemed to be happy with the way things turned out. Why, then, couldn't he? He could just go back to the Tantalus band and restart where he had left off, no trouble there, he was sure. But what of Garnet? He would be able to leave, but she would still remain.

Things like this made his head hurt. And his brain was already sending flares of discomfort weaving through his cranium in protest to the thoughts.

He instead focused on the twittering of the birds. Or, at least, he would have if there were any. Truly, the great courtyard was swathed in silence. The trees waved against the orange light of the setting sun by the force of the winds, though their leaves made not even a rustle. The once prevalent sense of peace oozing away from his conscious, Zidane hurried on his way along the cobbled path, looking to the dense line of trees that circled the great castle.

The tailed boy froze as a crashing in the vegetation reached his ears out of the blue. Every muscle in his body tensed as an immense figure barrelled out from between the trees and bushes. The giant stopped in its tracks to pin him with a frantic stare of green from behind thick clumps of unruly hair.

"Amarant!" he exclaimed.

The man looked at him in a puzzled manner

"Geez, man! I thought you were some kind of animal with all that crashing! You nearly gave me a heart attack!" he admonished loudly.

The red haired giant wasn't paying attention to his complaints. He cast multiple glances behind and to each side of him, looking like a disturbed rabbit running from maniacal hunters.

"What's the matter with you?"

"Is it gone?" asked the bounty hunter, still gazing about worriedly. He sounded ragged and very much out of breath.

"Is what gone?" questioned Zidane.

The man finally turned to face him, looking very dishevelled and distraught. He didn't answer. He held the acrobat's gaze for several long seconds.

Zidane found himself drowning in an unearthly puddle of smoky green. He swore he could feel his body going numb. He shuddered when the gaze of the disproportionate man was wrenched away to once again peer fearfully behind him.

The big man scanned the trees wildly. "We have to get inside," he said at last. "It won't be able to reach us within the castle."

"What won't?" insisted Zidane, the imagined chill receding.

The redhead began to back away from the trees with jittered steps. "Come on! It's headed this way!"

"I don't hear anything," he said the other grabbed him by the arm.

"You can't hear it. No-one can."

The boy was quiet as he was faced again with the odd stare. He found himself faintly wondering why he could see no pupil in the other's eyes. He was pulled back to the present as the much stronger being hauled him bodily towards the castle, making a bee-line for the nearest door.

They were inside in a flash, with the giant latching the thick portals of wood shut. He turned to the shaken thief suddenly. "Where are the others?" he questioned urgently.

"I'm not sure," he answered quietly. "They might be in the dining hall, though dinner is still a ways away."

The man bolted from the door down the hall, heading straight for the mentioned location.

Zidane, with one last, uneasy glace at the door, quickly followed after. He had to run hard to keep up with the man, who seemed to be dashing for his life.

They reached the dining hall in mere seconds. The thief was out of breath from the run, leaning bodily against the nearest column for rest. The giant surveyed the room silently with darting vision, looking almost angry that there was no-one in sight. "Where are they?" he asked in a dark voice.

Zidane looked up questioningly to the redhead at the sudden change in tone. "What?"

"Where are they?" the giant asked again, concerned urgency replacing the anger the acrobat was sure he had heard before.

"I'm not sure," he replied carefully, watching the other's reaction closely. "They could be anywhere in the Castle, really."

"Oh?" The big man turned his head slightly, back still facing the tailed thief.

"If you haven't noticed, Amarant, it's a big pile of bricks," huffed Zidane. "Lot's of places to hide."

"The library," he said.

"What?"

"The library," he looked up, tensing. "They could be there, right?"

Zidane let out a long breath. "I guess so…"

"Come on!" The redhead dashed off again.

Taking a deep breath, the thief followed, questions flooding his brain. The two of them reached the wooden doors of the royal library faster than he had thought possible. Man, they must have beaten Steiner's record for the Castle-long dash with that run. Really feeling the burn now, Zidane nearly fell bodily through the doors in an attempt to open them. He felt his companion watching him struggle on his feet, the same chill worming through his back. Laughter met their ears as they entered. Making their way past the countless shelves stocked full of aging books they found the remainder of their party clustered about the chamber's centre; and from the look of things, they were all enjoying a game of charades. Vivi was standing before the other four, hopping on his toes with his elbows bent and gloved hands kept close to his body.

"Rabbit!" shouted Eiko.

Zidane found himself smiling broadly as the others clapped to the little summoner's guess.

"So happy…" said the giant beside him softly.

His smile faded. Chancing a discrete glace towards the other he found that the bounty hunter was smiling as well. Though it somehow seemed unwholesome, the way his teeth glinted in the weakening light… the way he seemed to be staring so intently at them… He pushed the thoughts aside. What the heck? Amarant was his friend, his buddy. There was no reason, after all they had been through together, for him to not trust the man. Forcing the smile back to his lips he left the door, making for the assembled heroes. Maybe they could figure a way to deal with whatever the redhead had run into together. After all, heroes worked best in a group, right?

The giant didn't loose his toothy grin, staying near the door. Ah, yes… so happy they all seemed. Face cracking into an even wider smile he reached behind him and shut the library doors.

* * *

"You know, I've always thought that Chocobos were like big canaries."

The Pluto guard gave a confused glance to his shift partner. "What?"

"I mean, think about it," continued the first knight, "they're all yellow, just like a canary."

"Chocobos don't sing," said the second.

"You never know. There could be some singing Chocobos out there, just like there's ones that can fly."

The second knight rolled his eyes beneath his helmet. "Look, just pay attention to the yard, alright?"

The first gave the other a reproachful look. "And look for what? Trespassing rabbits?"

"Don't you start…"

"We're not going to see anything. Just like last night; and the night before that; and the night before that; and the--"

"I don't make the rules!" butt-in the second tin man. "Would you rather be running around on a wild goose chase in town? Surrounded by frantic people wailing about their missing neighbours?"

"At least it would be a little more mentally stimulating than keeping watch," said the first pointedly. "This is just flat out boring."

"Then maybe you shouldn't have sighed up for the shift," stung the other.

The first huffed and fell silent.

The two watch guards shifted on their feet, trying to keep the circulation in their legs going. Their post, at one of the least-used secondary entrances to the Castle, was, as always, bland and featureless. The small door that they stood before was of a sturdy make and boarded shut from the inside. Why their Captain would see any need to post sentries at its frame was beyond their scope. The job was always boring and uneventful. Whoever was unlucky enough to get posted at the dead door would be fortunate to spot so much as a mosquito.

"The sky is awfully orange this evening," commented the first night.

The second looked overtop the trees. The sun had nearly disappeared through the foliage, leaving the waking world enveloped in a pumpkin's skin. "Yeah," he agreed.

"I've never seen it so orange," added the other. "Reminds me of the sweet potato pie my gram used to make." He gazed into space dreamily.

The first silver knight shook his head and leaned against the stone of the Castle. Their shift would be over in a half-hour or so, and he was counting down the seconds for more than one reason. He sighed. Well, for as long as nothing turned up, they would get to go home early and bypass the usual report process.

"Have you ever tried sweet potato pie?"

He made a face behind his helmet; for heaven's sake why did he have to be stiffed with this gabber-jawed rookie? "No. Can't say that I have." Nearly twenty years on the job, and this was what he had to show for his experience? He could be elsewhere, making a difference. Not here, making small talk with a juvenile.

"Then you haven't lived, it is the greatest thing on earth! I'll have to bring some in sometime, and share it with the others." He went on about his plan, while the other ignored him.

The second knight trained his gaze towards the trees hard, trying to block out the continuous banter. Something caught his eye, like the faint glimmer of metal. He straightened, squinting in the fading light. It was probably nothing, but it was always better to be safe than sorry. The knight waited, straining to catch any sign of movement between the trees across the yard. The glimmer came again, slightly clearer, closer. He nudged the still-talking youth, instantly silencing him.

"Hm?" questioned the pie-lover.

"Look, in the trees," said the senior knight, pointing with a metal clad finger.

Both armoured men stared intently across the thirty feet of grass to the shadowed trunks of the surrounding deciduous vegetation. Several long seconds passed. A third flicker of substance lighted dimly amongst the columns of green, only now it didn't look so much like a twinkle of light, but more of something being revealed.

A small rustling sounded from behind the foremost vegetation, getting louder steadily. The Pluto knights had their hands on the hilts of their swords now. The noise neared, long, laboured footsteps could be discerned from the light racket. Two small pinpricks of red light shimmered in the dark, swaying in a steady rhythm.

"What is that?" voiced the inexperienced swordsman.

The lights got brighter as whatever possessed them neared, soft growls rising over the sounds of heavy footfalls.

Both knights gawped in disbelief as a figure broke through the shadows of the tree line, shambling towards them steadily. Yellowed points of exposed rib reached outwards from a missing stomach cavity, pinked flesh stretched over absurdly long limbs.

"H-halt!" demanded the senior knight, drawing his sword. "Stay where you are!"

A long hiss sounded from behind the missing nose, the red orbs glaring savagely from sunken sockets. Threads of silver ooze clung to its teeth, hanging in long strings over the airspace that contained the shredded tatters of scarlet sinews that were all that remained of its lower jaw.

The younger knight drew his sword as well, frantically wishing he was somewhere else.

The thing was slowly advancing across the courtyard, its hands dragging on the ground. Its footless legs ate up the turf in slow, long strides. The fading sunlight played off the metal and leather welded symbiotically to its form, making the creature glimmer.

"I'm warning you!" threatened the older guard. "Stay away!"

It leaned forward as it walked, glaring at the knight. Hissing a distinct challenge wrought with spit it broke into a blinding run in the split of a second, dashing for the guards. It lifted its hands, revealing two sets of triple knives as long as swords in the place of fingers. The unclothed thing leapt towards the startled knights with one push of its iron-shod legs.

The older knight swung his sword on instinct, blocking the first swipe by sheer chance. He heard his partner hit the stone wall as the intruder's hand slammed into him, the long knives skewering him cleanly through both armour and flesh. The youth's sword fell to the ground with a dull clang. The senior knight swung wildly at the boney beast, narrowly missing the unshielded form. Holding the blade at the ready he stared his opponent down. The alien eyes, framed by thick locks of scarlet hair, bored into the man's very spirit.

The Queen. He had to protect her Majesty. He parried another blow, and another. The swipes came fast and furious, quickly tiring the defender. What on earth was this thing? No creature could possibly move so quickly! "Back, devil!" he shouted, landing a smack from the hilt of his sword to the creature's face.

Shaking its head clear from the attack, the thing took a step away from the Pluto Knight. It eyed him with hatred, hunched over slightly like a feral animal. It took long strides sideways, working around the armoured swordsman, calculating for another leap.

The knight didn't stay dormant, keeping a careful watch over the movements of the beast. He was in no position to lead the next attack. He could not leave his post, and he didn't have the strength to fend the thing off for long. He watched the creature shift about. He squinted hard as the misshapen form stepped into the path of the dying rays of the sun.

Seeing the opening in its favour, the beast lunged at the blinded knight, burying its claws into the soft flesh behind the flimsy armour. It gurgled in satisfaction as the defender looked up at it, stunned. Pulling the deadly knives free of the body it let the man fall to the ground, the life fleeing from the mortal shell before it even hit the ground.

* * *

"Duck!"

"Turkey!"

The game of charades had the companions entangled in a merry thread of mirth. The two child mages were having the time of their lives, while the Dragon Knight and the Queen just laughed and played along. Zidane noticed that the clanking Pluto Captain was nowhere to be found. Huh, probably marching down some hallway or other, he was sure.

"Zidane! Come and play with us!" chimed the azure haired Summoner.

Smiling, the thief wandered over to his four assembled friends, forgetting completely what had brought him there in the first place. He swiftly joined in as the game restarted.

In the shadows of the tall shelves of books the redhead watched them play their little game. He grinned darkly to himself. What luck, that he would find them all here; it would make things all the more easy. Silently he made his way to the nearest window, all traces of his former apprehension gone. Peering downwards at an angle he saw far below the fallen forms of two silver clad knights.

Exposing an unnaturally pointed set of teeth with a broad smirk he quietly drew the curtains shut.

* * *

Steiner was growing impatient. He had been all over the Castle and yet he could not locate half of his knights. Hands on his hips he glared at the ground.

All right. Best to start from the top, then. With a short huff he clanked off towards the minor hallways at a fair pace, thinking that, for his age, he must be the fittest man in Alexandria.

He passed innumerable columns of marble and alabaster, flew over roll upon roll of red carpet, skittered beneath countless chandeliers. He hardly noticed such broad details of the great Castle anymore. It was the small things, the nooks, the loose bolts, that he gave any notice now. The majesty of the edifice was not lost on him, however, it had just become dull, is all, for all the time he had spent in its shadow. For how long he had been under the service of the Alexandrian Royal Family he could not recall, the line dividing his childhood from his ascension to a Pluto Knight being long since blurred within his memory. Not that it mattered, really. Though he was the old-fashioned type, he had learned that holding on to the past did not allow for advancement in either mind or body. It was something Beatrix hadn't been able to cope with. The great General had been overcome with the weight of her actions under the late Queen Brahne, though she had been offered forgiveness which should have, metaphorically, cleared her conscience. But still, she crumbled under her own guilt, unable to forgive herself despite the counselling she received from both Queen Garnet and himself.

It was safe to say that when she left, she took a piece of him with her.

The old knight had never forgotten what they had so fleetingly shared, but he knew that he couldn't renounce his duties and join her, wherever she may have gone. Duty was the domineering element in his life and at times he himself questioned it, but could never truly find fault in the lifestyle that he had lead for so long.

He slowed his pace along the length of one of the Castle's many lesser hallways. It was deserted. He stopped on the red carpet, looking about. He wasn't really getting anywhere with locating his knights; there were just too many places to look, and too few of him to cover it all within a reasonable amount of time. The man sighed, taking the opportunity to rest.

Where were they? He had stationed three knights to this hallway alone, and it didn't take that long to patrol it either way. He should be able to either see or hear at least one of them. His brow furrowed in annoyance. They had better not be sneaking off to the wine cellars again. Growling quietly he stalked off down the hallway, heading for the nearest cellar. The lower levels would be heavily stocked with aging wines at this time of year, for the numerous banquets that would be held in almost continuous succession in the upcoming fall.

The farther the Pluto Captain advanced, the darker the walls steadily became. These wings of the Castle had somehow survived the blasts that had rained down by Bahamut's will two years before, when Garnet had only just ascended to Queenship. The stones were old and blackened, out of place with the fresher materials that had been used to rebuild the royal structure.

He stopped in his march. Spread upon the regal scarlet carpet, was a large wet stain. His face pinched in puzzlement. What was this? With a creak of armour he knelt down before the wet mark. He felt the weave of the rug with his gloved fingers. It was too thick to be wine, but just as red. The knight heard a soft patter on his shoulder, like rain hitting a bucket. Looking over he saw a red droplet snake down his armour.

"What the?" he voiced. Another drop of the fluid fell from above, landing on his right glove. Gazing at his soiled glove for a few seconds he looked back to the wide stain on the carpet. He then reverted his eyes upwards.

High above, pinned to the stone ceiling, were three knights. Broken and torn their bodies had been tied to the overhanging decor by their own entrails, their swords still locked in their cold unmoving fingers. Dead, glazed orbs stared down at him in a wordless plea for deliverance, loose tongues hanging from between bloodied teeth.

Steiner fell backwards, gawping at the horrible sight. The armour of the knights was shredded and cleaved as if they had been mere wool. The sightless faces of the young men just gazed back at him silently. Loosing his nerve the old knight got up and ran from the scene, his mind still trying to wrap itself around what he had just seen. They were dead. They had been slain. But by what? No man could possibly accomplish what he had witnessed, not with the knights still in full body armour as they had been.

There was something in the Castle.

Steiner regained his wits. He had to warn the Queen, that was all that mattered now. Once she was safe, he could hunt down the beast responsible. He dashed down the hallway at full clanking speed, heading straight for the Castle library, where her Majesty would be waiting.

* * *

A cold breeze brought him back to wakefulness. His first thought was on how much his head hurt, and how much it was hurting even more now that he was thinking about it.

"Urg." With that said, Amarant began the painful process of dredging himself from the lifeless stone of the balcony.

Grabbing the rail with both hands he levied himself from the ground. His head was spinning wildly. Steadying himself on shaking legs he tried to remember what had happened. Someone had hit him, that much was clear, and he didn't have to feel the enormous goose-egg that was pounding behind his ear to solidify that notion.

He tried to put his shaken thoughts in order. Something had… come up behind him… But what? Who? The man racked his brain for an answer, some recollection of his assailant's face. All that came to the forefront of his mind was a sickly pair of smoky, white eyes. The keening hum rose in his ears, making his brain reverberate painfully inside his skull.

A feeling of dread came over him. He forced his head to clear, pushing himself away from the balcony rails. The bounty hunter nearly tumbled to the ground. Gritting his teeth in frustration he strained for the door that lead back into the greater hallways. He practically fell into the Castle, the incessant drone grew louder, deafening him from the inside. He clutched at his ears, trying to ward it away. He was on his knees, huddled like a child trying to block away the shouts of angry parents. Alien images flashed through his mind, superimposing themselves over the regal corridor. Time and time again the pale eyes appeared. They flooded over his surroundings, preventing any escape from their glare. They were so familiar… What did it mean?

The redhead hauled his bulk from the floor, determined to get to the bottom of it all. He had to speak with Zidane, maybe get his help. If he hadn't been out for too long, then the thief might still be in the library with his 'love'.

With the images pulsing in time with the hum, he barrelled towards the tome of knowledge.

* * *

Zidane was totally absorbed. The smiles and laughs all around him were so pure and full that he couldn't think of anything else. It was his turn, and thought that doing an impersonation of a monkey would be fun.

The pale giant stayed close to the windows, lifting away the curtains to peer out from time to time. He tilted his head suddenly, as if trying to catch an elusive sound. He frowned, nearly snarling aloud. Looking irritably at the double doors of the cemetery of books he deftly wormed from his place at the window to the back of the grand room. He scanned the walls, finding several ornamental shields and lances. He passed them by with a disgusted sneer. He stopped by an unlit fireplace, eyeing the pokers resting in their protective stand. Wrapping a large hand about the handle of one particular decorative iron wrought poker he tested its point with his thumb. The digit came away with a clean cut. With an unwholesome grin of satisfaction he slithered back to where the happy fools capered, keeping the poker out of sight.

Drifting past the tall windows he took a new post between the isles near the door, hidden from the senses of the others. There he waited.

A distant, metallic sound could be heard advancing towards the library doors. The racket quickly reached the ears of the charaders, who stopped in their activities in puzzlement. The tall double doors were opened forcefully a second later, revealing a dishevelled knight.

"My Queen!" huffed the Pluto Captain. "You're safe!"

"Steiner?" questioned the brunette. She got up from her cushioned chair, stepping lightly towards him.

The old knight clanked towards her and her fellow charades-men. "Your Majesty, you may be in grave danger!" he said, still trying to catch his breath between words. "I will escort you to the lower levels!"

"What? Why? What is going on, Steiner? Is there an intruder?"

"Yes, though who, I know not." He leaned heavily on his knees. "My knights… In the lesser south hallways…" he trailed off, the words catching in his throat with the recollection of the horrible sight that had awaited him upon the arched ceiling.

The shadow between the isles straightened.

Zidane, Freya, and the two child mages had left their playing space to stand with the Queen, listening intently with worried expressions.

The Queen looked very grave. "Steiner, you must tell me what happened."

Steiner shook his head. "I don't rightly know what had happened, your Majesty. I only found… what was left." He stood up, still looking a little winded. "I will take you and the others to safety, then--" There was a resounding clang of metal striking metal.

Garnet gasped and stumbled backwards as the old knight crumpled at her feet, his helmet buckled inwards from the force of the silencing blow.

"No-one is going anywhere." The giant detached himself from the shadows, still holding the black iron poker in his hand.

The assembled heroes were stunned.

"Amarant?" Zidane was in front of the Queen on reflex. He looked at the fallen knight, and then back to the scarlet haired bounty hunter. "What… why did you do that?" he questioned angrily. "What is the matter with you?"

The man sneered at him. "Oh nothing's the matter," he replied darkly, fingering the tip of the poker. "I just don't want all Our planning to go to waste." He eyed the monkey savagely. "You'll all stay put if you don't want to suffer."

Zidane was livid. "You bas--" The tip of the poker was instantly embedded in his stomach. Everyone around him gasped. The Queen already had tears in her eyes. He buckled over the instrument, gripping at it feebly.

"Careful, _boy_." He twisted the poker, earning a small scream of pain from the thief. "Best to do as you're _told_." He pulled the tool from the youth's stomach forcefully, making him fall back. The Queen caught him.

"Zidane!" she cried.

The tailed boy blubbered in her arms, clutching at his wound. The Dragon Knight was at his side as well. Eiko and Vivi were speechless, eyes wide in disbelief.

"Now, then," drawled the giant. "I assume we have an understanding?" He twirled the poker.

He received multiple glares. All assembled were quiet.

He grinned carnivorously. "Good."

* * *

The humming had gotten louder. The closer he got to the library, the stronger it became. Amarant felt as though his head was going to blow apart the frequency was so heavy. Whatever had attacked him, he figured, was the cause of the horrid discomfort; and he wanted to give whatever it was a piece of his mind.

The doors were in sight. He grasped the handle, freezing in place. Alien caution taking over, he slowly twisted the brass head, opening the portal slightly to peer inside. He caught his breath. Standing over his do-gooder companions was… himself? Forest green eyes going wide in disbelief he merely stared, dumbfounded.

His gaze trailed downwards, spying the prone form of the old tin knight. Whether or not the man was alive or dead he could not tell. His copy, an iron poker in hand, had his back turned to him. The others were huddled before the impostor, looking grave and afraid. None of them had weapons, and the magic users were probably too shaken to cast any spells.

Since all eyes were trained on the redheaded fraud, he chanced entering. He had his sights set on Steiner's polished blade. He slinked inside with practiced stealth, keeping both his companions and his double out of the know. He reached the fallen swordsman, carefully removing the broad blade from the knight's leather sheath. Getting up from the ground he started for the creature that had taken his place. As he emerged from the isles, the red clad Burmecian caught sight of him. Her expression was priceless, but alerted the double. The clone spun around. The double could only register surprise as the silver blade found home in his stomach. All were silent as the two redheads stared each other down.

"Geh-heh, I was wondering when you would find your way here," wheezed the fraud, bent over the sword, glaring up at the original through smoky green orbs.

"Who are you?" questioned Amarant.

The other sneered. "Oh, but you already know."

The buzzing erupted in volume.

Sensing a loss in the original's balance, the snarling double shoved him into the nearest shelf, winding him. Standing up straight the fraud grasped the penetrating sword and pulled it cleanly from his form, yellow gore spurting from the wound as he did so. The assembled captives shuffled away slightly at this new development. With blinding speed the creature drove the butt of the sword's hilt into the bounty hunter's stomach, pinning him to the great wooden shelf. "It's been a long time," said the clone, eyeing him coldly.

Amarant tried to fight against the weapon, his rapidly ebbing strength failing against the unmerciful pressure of the other's hold.

"How _weak_ you have become," he continued, grinding the round hilt deeper. He looked suddenly to the door, the sound of heavy, metal footsteps reaching the creature's keen hearing. He grinned wide as a lanky, disproportionate beast shambled to the door. "Barbos."

The thing pinned its red gaze to the clone, silver ooze threading from its lipless face. It hissed loudly, swinging its clawed arms.

"Good," replied the double. He returned his attention to the suffering Amarant. "Well, I think its safe to say that you will be of no use to Us." he suddenly pulled the hilt away, letting the man drop painfully to the ground. He turned away. "Barbos. Kill him."

The creature shrieked and lunged at the crumpled redhead, already bloody claws spread wide.

The bounty hunter's brain exploded with a cacophony of noise that, he felt sure, must have been the first welcoming entourage of death. A terrible shriek filled his conscious, splitting whatever was left of his hearing. It was so loud it bordered on painful. What the heck? You can't feel pain when you're dead, right? He risked opening his eyes. If he was about to be judged or whatever, he wanted to see just what would make up the unbiased panel.

He was still in the library. The hideous beast, Barbos, was what was causing the awful racket. It clutched, figuratively speaking, at what remained of its ears, screaming as if in agony.

Amarant's double was covering his own ears, as well as everyone else present, in attempts to block out the hellish noise. "Barbos! Silence!" he screamed over the horrible sound.

Barbos forced its screams to a close, swinging its head from side to side in some demented display of pain.

The clone pinned the original with an icy glare. "So," he said carefully. "You seem to have some strength left. You may not be so useless after all." He waved his hand. A shimmering mirror materialised beside him, floating in space. But the surface was distorted, showing not a reflection of the library chamber, but of the yellow tents of the Eccentric Circus. "Even so, these souls belong to Us." He turned and grabbed the startled heroes, tossing them in pairs through the glimmering face of the mirror. The skinny beast, whimpering in dejected suffering, shuffled away from the bounty hunter, throwing itself through the liquid surface without hesitation.

Amarant tried unsuccessfully to get back to his feet, glaring up at his copy.

The double give him a mocking, toothy grin, before thrusting Steiner's aging sword into the hard wood of the floor and vanishing into the mirror himself. No sooner had the creature stepped through the object it disappeared into space with the same flash with which it arrived.

* * *

**Bwaha! That's it for now!**

**This wasn't terrible gore-wise, so the rating will stay as is until the next chapter, where it'll be up-ed for safety's sake.**

**And thank you LadyPhreyaKaiba, KASLiNN, and vast-cerulean for all of your reviews! (Yes, the prologue was vague, but it was meant to be that way. You'll see what it all means soon enough!) I'm glad you're all enjoying this fic, and hope that it fulfills your expectations, whatever they may be!**

**See you all in two weeks, and have a happy All Hallow's Eve!**


	7. P2: iii

**DISCLAIMERS: Zidane and his unreal companions all belong to Squaresoft and that Enix thing.**

**BUT the evil vortex, the freaky stuff, and the swarm of maggots are mine.**

**Woot! The next chapter! I'm sure you'll all love it. NOTE: there will be some itallian squeezed in here... at least I'm sure that's what it is... Oh, well. Anyway, no need to fret, as translations will be provided later. On a similar note, there will be a few lines of garbled semi-english, not totally (at all) un-crackable, but just so you know. It was, and is, a lame substitute for any other alternative that I could think of. Thus, if you can translate it, good for you. If not... then I laugh at you. (I'm kidding.)**

**As I said I would in the last chapter, the rating has been brought up to 'M' for safety's sake.**

**iii - Run Away To The Circus**

* * *

The man could only stare at the airspace where the ornate mirror had stood only seconds before in defeat.

They were gone. But he had a pretty good idea of where they went.

"My… Queen…" came a laboured voice.

Amarant twisted painfully on the ground to look at the prone form of the old Pluto Captain. Was he alive? He half crawled his way to the senior swordsman, turning him over gingerly to rest on his back. "Oi, are you alright?" he questioned.

The delirious knight lifted a hand from the carpeted ground, reaching for the ceiling. "…Queen Gar… net…"

"I'll take that as a maybe," mumbled the giant.

Steiner suddenly sat up, eyes wide. "My Queen! I'll protect you!" he shouted. He groaned and felt the back of his head.

"Easy there, Lancelot. You took a good smack to the head it seems, best to relax."

"I… Where… where is the Queen? Where is her Majesty?" he questioned loudly, grasping the shaken bounty hunter by his shirt.

He looked the crazed man straight in the eyes. "There gone," he said carefully.

The knight looked as though he was about to crumble. He released the other slowly. "I… I have failed…" He covered his face with his hands.

"Look, man-"

"I must go after her!" He tried to stand up, falling back unsteadily.

"Calm down!"

"I will not sit and do nothing while her Majesty is in danger!" he shot back.

Amarant gripped the older man's armoured shoulder. "Listen! You're in no shape! You can do nothing for anyone in such a state!" he said forcefully.

Both were silent.

The knight looked the other over. "What, then, do you propose we do?" he asked with a light tinge of sarcasm. "Even you can't possibly be so cold as to leave them for dead. I may not know what happened, but I do know that they will need help."

The giant sighed. "No. I guess I can't, no thanks to that fool monkey." He stood up stiffly. "I'll go after them."

"You don't look in the greatest shape," observed the knight.

The redhead peered at the other over his shoulder. "Yeah, so?"

"A bit of a hypocrite, are you not?" he bit.

"Maybe," replied the giant. "But I have a score to settle." He started for the doors, leaving the silver knight alone.

Steiner sat quietly on the carpet, watching the other leave. He felt so tired. He tried to slowly get back to his feet. After a few failed attempts he reached his goal, leaning heavily against the nearest shelf. Head clearing he mentally cursed himself. He didn't have a chance to ask where the bounty hunter was headed. He probably wouldn't have told him anyway. He sighed and shook his head. Well, he was more or less stuck here.

But the younger knights would need his help. There were probably others about the Castle who had run into whatever had been staging the assaults, injured and in need of assistance. And whatever it was could still be somewhere nearby.

His mind was set. He would round up the remaining Pluto Knights and set up defences about the Castle. He would send the quickest of his men into the city, make sure that the assailant wasn't harassing civilians. He would also send scouts into the immediate area to look for any sign of the Queen and her companions. His poise returning, he clanked, slowly, out from the library, plans already mapped perfectly before his mind's eye.

* * *

They were huddled together, surrounded by small iron cages and performance masks. Crammed into many of the sorry prisons were countless folk, men, women, and children, one to a cage. Most were crying in misery, some were reaching out and calling to the brunette Queen, begging for deliverance. Other's were silent, rolled into pathetic positions in wide-eyed delirium. Garnet was drowned in her own thoughts, cradling an unconscious Zidane in her arms, trying unsuccessfully to heal his wounds with a cure spell. Freya had both of the young mages close, comforting them as well as she could. Not far was the false Amarant, speaking to the slickly dressed circus Ringmaster, who only a night ago, had won their hearts with his charm.

Freya stroked the backs of the frightened child mages, both close to tears. She herself was a little shaken. She could feel multiple sets of hungry eyes watching them, observing their actions. None of them had weapons; she her pike, Vivi his staff, Eiko her flute, Zidane his daggers, nor Garnet her rod. They were defenceless. What did their captors had in store for them? She could only guess; and if the attitude of their redheaded escort was any indication, it probably wasn't pleasant. The creature called Barbos wasn't far, its red gaze sweeping over them all in a slow, mechanised pattern.

The Dragon Knight focused her keen hearing upon the words passed between what seemed to be the leaders in their capture. The speech was soft, making her strain to eavesdrop.

"Will it follow?" questioned the Ringmaster.

The false Amarant was expressionless. "Most likely. Whether or not It is what We lost is debatable. If It is drawn further with Us then the Master may Judge under Its graces."

"You don't mean for me to just let it waltz through here, do you?" interrogated the yellow eyed man in the top hat.

The other sneered. "You'd best hold your tongue. Of course not. If It cannot best you than It most certainly will not be worthy of consideration by Our Master." He trained a smoky glare on the captives. "Go back to your post. We will take these worms now; we have enough. Their souls are expected for Judgement."

Their conversation finished, the Ringmaster turned and left. The impostor bounty hunter made his way back to the assembled heroes of yore, looking just as unfriendly as before. "Get up, mongrels," he ordered, pulling them all from each other's comfort.

"Let us go!" demanded Eiko.

The creature trained his freezing gaze on the girl. "Silence, cur, impure beasts such as yourself have no right to speak before those of the glorified line." He turned away, tossing five of the few remaining empty cages to the center of the shadowed closure of the tent. Eiko, confused and oddly hurt, had mammoth tears threatening to spill over her cheeks. Freya shifted to comfort her. She had hardly placed a grey hand on the young summoner's shoulder when she was yanked bodily by the back of her red coat and slammed into one of the pitiful cages. White hands swarmed over the bars, sealing the door of her prison shut with a heavy padlock. The Burmecian watched as the remaining four of their group were likewise imprisoned, handled none-too-gently. The owners of the sickly hands, the white acrobats, converged upon each cage in succession, fastening each one with an identical lock.

The twin jugglers, Hura and Gora, trudged into the room carrying a large ornate mirror wrought with multiple ores and decorated with carved effigies of hellish beings and terrible skeletons. They set the looking glass gently upon the ground. The clone approached with two cages locked in his grasp. He handed one to each of the performers, their occupants whimpering and wailing. "Send them down," he ordered. "I want them all ready for transport within the quarter." He turned and motioned to the seven white acrobats, who immediately slithered from the assembled cages to the grand mirror. One by one they leapt onto the reflective surface, though instead of landing squarely upon the glass, they continued to fall, slipping through the mirror's face to some unknown space beyond. Once the last of the pallid actors had vanished through the glass, Hura and Gora began to lower the occupied cages down into the reflective surface one after another.

One by one the sorry crowd was shipped to whatever twisted fate awaited them below the looking glass like high-demand animal stock. Freya could spy folk of numerous origins all crammed into the tarp room; Alexadrians, Burmecians, farmers, merchants, nobles, even. There was no discrimination, it seemed, to their captors' taste in prisoners.

At long last, Gora, still in his form-fitting juggling suit, took up the Dragon Knight's cage and brought it to the mirror. The red clad pike wielder looked through the bottom of her tiny cell at the silvery face of the looking glass. The framed material rippled and wove like water, its reflection not of the creature held above it. Instead, the warrior saw the long dead Iifa Tree standing tall in the wastes of the Outer Continent's blasted earth. She began to squirm behind the bars of her cage as it was lowered towards the shimmering mirror's surface. The polished glass swallowed the prison like a hungry tar pit eager for living sacrifice.

She fell through with hardly a tickle from the glass. The cage was received on the other end by one of the acrobats, who quickly brought her over to where several lines of the prisons waited, strung securely to sturdy iron poles. Holding each pole up from the ground in pairs were huge pack beasts of the like Freya had never seen before. They were massive, easily out-sizing any Zaghnol she had encountered, even those bred for the annual Lindblum Festival of the Hunt, where larger was always better. Great cloths of scarlet fabric laced with gold and silver were draped over the backs of the beasts, as if to signify their possession to a clan. The knight was quickly fastened to the end of one of the cold metal poles that hung between two of the pack creatures, which already had nine other passengers to its name, while the metal bar on the other side was stocked fully with ten fearful prisoners. Its current hanging jail without any further vacancy, the pale acrobat hurriedly scuttled off to receive another cage for a new pack pair while its siblings dealt with their own assigned trains of unhappy cargo.

Freya peered at the cage in front of her. Inside was a young Burmecian male, probably just becoming of age. He rocked in his cell slowly, making it swing slightly above the hot earth. Huddled into a tight foetal position he gave neither her, nor his neighbours, nor his captors any notice. Freya tried to get the youth's attention, reaching through the bars to paw at the swinging enclosure. "You there! Are you alright?" she called to him. The grey furred being stopped his rocking momentarily to gaze at her with eyes half-glazed with delirium. He stared at the knight for a few seconds, then went back to swaying in his prison, looking out at nothing. Getting rather disturbed herself, she tried again to get the other's attention, hoping for some kind of conscious response. Her calls didn't reach the troubled Burmecian any more than the first attempt, but they didn't go unheeded completely. She was rudely rattled within her basket as something knocked it bodily, accompanied by a low bellow. Clutching at the bars in hopes of lessening the damage to her form she gazed about wildly. Her sight landed upon the large pack beast, who was staring at her in an almost peeved way. The Dragon Knight gawped at the thing. Its face, easily as tall as she was high, was almost human, but grey and sunken. A moist cavity resided where a nose should have been, the skin was cracked as if it were made of stone. The creature's eyes were dead and white, peering at her through a silver glaze of timeless torment. A hook and pin was threaded through its lower lip, a thin thread of filmy cord attached to the curved instrument tied the beast to a stake in the ground. The red cloth framed its decaying visage almost regally. The thing huffed at her in an annoyed way. Freya was totally still, completely unable to contain her near horror at the beast's appearance. Seemingly satisfied at her silence, the pack animal returned to its interrupted pastime, tearing at the sparse vegetation rooted stubbornly about the baked landscape within its reach. Dredging up a choice bramble between its blunt teeth it chewed loudly, bringing the rat warrior out of her reverie with its merry crunches.

An increase in the tension in the air brought her attention back to where the portal hung in the sky. The false redhead landed lightly after falling through the mirror. All eyes were turned to him, the assembled performers stood silently, as if waiting for him to speak. He surveyed the collected prisoners hanging from the poles between the pack beasts, and seeing that all were accounted for, started for the front of the crowd. "Very good," he commented as he went. "The Master will be quite pleased with our find. Ready the beasts, we leave for the Gates now." The gathering of disproportionate beings instantly began to scramble to their assigned pack beasts, whipping them savagely with slender rods to get them to their feet as they unhooked them from the ground. Freya's prison shook madly as her group's transporters were hustled for travel. Bashing about in her cage she strained to keep from breaking her own bones. With a low collection of tormented moans the herd of pack beasts started forward, moving slowly to form a single line. The circus performers, still in their hideous masks, clambered up the flanks of their charges, sitting atop their indistinguishable necks over the regal drapes.

The caravan progressed at a steady pace, the beasts huffing and snorting at each other from behind or in front. Some tried to pick at the shrubs spaced about their path, though they were quickly put back into their proper places with a smart whip from their drivers. At the very front sat the double, resting atop the largest of the pack beasts in a brass seat, leading the melancholy line towards the imposing organic structure of the Iifa Tree.

The landscape was different, somehow.

The Dragon knight peered out from behind the cold bars, scrutinising the wasted horizon. The earth and sky had an ethereal sheen, filmy afterimages wavering like a badly distorted mirror. Veins of pearl gossamer lined the sky while threads of glimmering scarlet interwove with the baked earth. In the place of the sun shone a swirling orange vortex of clouds and atmosphere, bathing everything in an unwholesome glow.

What place was this?

The cries of the captives could be heard for over a mile, piling over each other in a morbid harmony. Freya clutched at her ears, the weight of it all slowly crushing what little now remained of her resolve. She began to steadily drift away, losing herself to an inner darkness that promised so many things. With the cacophonous moans of the prisoners and the bellows of the pack beasts dying away from the reaches of her receding conscious, the red knight focussed blindly on the offered comfort. Slumping against the sides of the rocking cage she fell to a deep slumber, locking herself away from the disturbing reality of her predicament.

* * *

This time he had been wise enough to grab his claws first. He was still sore, but he'd be damned if he let something so small get in his way. The humming was getting louder, rattling inside his aching skull as he neared the city gates. He wanted answers, and he had no doubts that the majority of them would be answered inside that hideous tarp tent.

The welded metal of the main gates rose coldly from the cobbled ground. Amarant paid the obstruction no heed, veering slightly to the side to scale the brick wall that supported it. With a grace not entirely characteristic of a such a figure he landed without a sound, shooting through the concealing grasses just as deftly. The monstrous Big Top loomed ahead of him like an infected sore, mocking the world with its cheery mantle. Nothing but anger occupied the bounty hunter's pained mind. Just who were these people? If people they were. What did they want? What did it have to do with him? It seemed to the man that he was somehow a part of all this, though he could not fathom why.

He had barely the sense to voice his surprise as a dark form barrelled out from the tall grass, ploughing into his side like a boulder. Using the falling momentum to his gain, the redhead landed a fierce punch to his assailant's muzzled jaw. The thing, whatever it was, huffed in annoyance at the attack on its sensitive snout, tumbling to the ground, away from its intended target. It quickly got back to its feet, dashing back into the grasses for cover. Amarant, in a lot more pain now, wasn't so fast. He hardly caught a glimpse of the beast vanishing into the dark green. Damn! He should have been paying attention! He would have to be more careful, he did not know who or what his attacker was, and there was nothing worse than an unknown foe. The quicker he got to the tent, the better.

Regaining his bearings he restarted his dash to the ugly tarp mound, keeping every trained sense open for any sign of what now hunted him. The Big Top was still several yards away, and wasn't getting any closer in any way fast. A soft padding noise, he nearly missed it, sounded to his right. It vanished. The same sound rose to his left. The giant ran harder, cursing a blue streak under his breath. Something flew at him from the front, dark and sinuous.

Amarant could feel the yellowed claws dig forcefully into his thick arms with a clarity that should have knocked him senseless. By either the blessing if chance, or the mockery of some forgotten God, the bounty hunter was able to keep a clear head. With a strained grunt he punched the thing forcefully in the stomach with his armed fist. The metal knives tore through black, rotting fur like tissue, hitting the bubbling innards within with surgical accuracy. The thing howled in pain and pushed itself away, making the giant fall back. He quickly leapt back to his feet, ready to land another blow.

But the beast was gone.

He looked around frantically. How? There was no thing on earth that could possibly move so fast, even without being skewered. He could feel its presence still, circling him. It would do no good to run, the creature was likely to repeat its last attack pattern if he did, and Amarant was sure that he wouldn't be so lucky as to stay standing after another ram like that.

He could hear it growling, but could not place its location.

He forced down every once of fear threatening to rise within him; he could not let such a weak emotion control him. He was Amarant Coral, and that name didn't include any definition of fear.

When the beast came at him again, he was ready. A pair of bloodshot yellow eyes came barrelling out of the wild grass, surrounded by an ugly skin of greasy black hair. The redheaded bounty hunter brought up his claws smoothly, watching the creature's form peel away into quarters as they passed the sharpened blades. Dark life blood rained upon the green in erratic bursts.

A canine muzzle fell to the ground with a muffled sound, fearsome teeth split and cleaved with the broken jaw. The lifeless body laid before the giant in four thick strips, the slices clinging together at the hips, where the claws could not shear. The man eyed the twitching corpse coldly and restarted his trek towards the tarp tent, stepping over the obstructing body without care.

The multiple bruises and cuts that now lined his burly form hardly registered to his angered mind. The tent now neared quickly, the ring of light glittering at his feet in moments.

Beaten and bloody, Amarant glared up at the Big Top, loathing mirrored in emerald orbs. Without pause he marched to the entrance, flexing his large fists in anticipation for his meeting with the Ringmaster.

* * *

The looming, perverted edifice that was the Iifa Tree towered above the unholy caravan. The rotting roots of the organic machine wove about the edge of the pit over which it was suspended, blocking the convoy's path. The long-dead structure of war stood before them in silent mockery, daring them to try to pass.

The procession halted at the pit's very edge, causing the pack beasts to huff and snort. Their drivers whipped their sides and faces to quiet them.

Vivi swayed within his cold cage at the front of the prison caravan, peering through the bars with sad, glowing eyes. He knew that he would meet no reprieve from whatever their captors were. The leader, the false Amarant, was giving orders at the front, unmoving from his brass seat of station. Why were they here? This wasn't the Iifa Tree. This wasn't the Outer Continent. He could feel it. He didn't need to look at the twisting sky, or see the unearthly veins of gossamer and scarlet crisscrossing the horizon above and below to solidify that suspicion. The air itself held an element of _surrealism_, as if it were a mere illusion; he could sense no magic… and yet it was _everywhere_.

Vivi reverted his attention back to the front as the leader stood up in his saddle. "_Evig yaw, Denmad Toor fo eht Tor!_" he commanded."_Eht sretsam fo eht Lanrefni Mlaer dnamed yrtne!_" The double spread his arms above him. "_Nepo! Ro tahw elttil sniamer fo uoy lliw eb denrub yb eht yruf fo eht Enin Slevel fo Tnemrot!_"

A tremor shook the earth as a deep groan sounded from the deceased Tree. The blackened roots, cracked with rot and decay, screamed in a wet voice against the abuse being unfairly put upon them. The crumbling vines writhed about the pit's border, at last revealing a yawning chasm before the waiting procession.

As the commotion subsided, the sadistic leader of the circus performers sat himself back down upon his brass seat. With a collective smack of driving whips, the caravan of suffering jolted forward, meandering towards the pit's edge. The diminutive black mage gripped at his bars fearfully. The pack beasts lumbered forward into the waiting curtain of black without care or pause, making noises at each other as they marched. He could feel his prison swing dangerously as the beast at the forefront of their prison line began its descent over the lip of the pit. The bottoms of the cages scraped and banged loudly against the uneven earth as the caboose of their troupe slowly followed after. Moans and cries of pain could be heard as the process was repeated with all twenty sets of prisoners, some screams signifying discomfort, others pain and injury. The merciless drivers gave these cries no heed, staring ahead from behind their ugly masks.

Vivi knocked soundly against the sides of his cell, his small form providing no cushioning against the compulsory blows he afflicted upon himself. He tried to halt the furious rockings of his figure, reaching out to steady himself against the iron bars. His left hand jarred viciously against the ungiving metal, sending a spear of freezing agony tearing up from his wrist with a dull popping noise. The young magic user immediately pulled his gloved hand against himself, trying vainly to keep from further injury as the beasts continued on their descent.

He curled himself into a protective ball, hoping to lessen the blows with the padding of his clothing.

His head was swimming with the relentless pain scoring up his arm. His hand felt as though it was caught between a furnace and a river of ice. His throbbing wrist pulsed angrily. Vivi managed to gain enough clarity through the haze of pain to shift his body to the front of the swinging cage, where he wouldn't be thrown so badly.

The insignificant twist that placed him in the comparatively protective corner seemed like a mile leap. Gasping, he leaned dependently against the wrought icicles of metal. Tears blurred his vision, but he didn't care. All that mattered was the torturous agony that was waging war against his faltering conscious.

He finally began to breathe easier as the ground slowly levelled out. But the caravan continued at a steep angle, trudging ever downwards.

The darkness gradually receded, revealing their path little by little. Huddled amongst the shadows, Vivi could almost pick out shapes. He swore he saw a drape of some kind… the type that only hung off of the rafters of royalty. He squinted hard into the gloom. Maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him.

The sound of the multiple footfalls changed. The wet sound of trampling feet on rotting wood shifted to heavy steps on polished stone. Where were they? This far down, they would have hit the pit of Mist at the Iifa Tree's belly by now, maybe they were even further. A pinpoint of white light blinked in the far distance, signalling, perhaps, the convoy's goal. The young mage strained to see both through the darkness and around the foremost pack beast's bulk, looking for anything, be it a rock or a tree root, that could give any indication as to where they could be.

As they advanced towards the waiting light at a crawl, Vivi began to slowly make more sense of his surroundings. But with each discovery made, the less collective sense it made all together. Pillars of rock speared from the ground at calculated intervals, starting out rough and organic, but gradually becoming more refined and elegant as they passed. What he eventually concluded to indeed be large, flowing drapes spotted the shadowed walls, sitting still in the rank, unmoving air. A musty smell hung about he was sure to be a cavern of some kind, earthy, but too exotic to truly be of the underground.

The light took on a piercing glare as they neared, making the magic user squint to shield his eyes, too afraid to move his still-aching hand. In the pure, sourceless light, the cavern was at last revealed to them all. Polished marble tiles lined with gold made up the floor, the walls and roof were so pure they appeared to be fashioned out of deposits of ivory. Great columns rose from the floor, decorated with exquisitely carved winged men and women and skeletons, both entwined in a macabre dance of agony. The chiselled faces of the feathered messengers were twisted into howling expressions of loss and grief, reaching up to the white roof in vain hopes of freedom from their stone prison. The bare skeletons clutched at the silently wailing figures, holding them in place upon the pillars. Heavy, purple drapes hung from high upon the walls, pooling on the floor below like frozen rivers of molasses. The roof was swarming with unclothed beings frozen in some ungodly torment amongst horned creatures with spined wings and cruel faces. The little mage could feel his blood run cold as he gazed up at the unearthly architecture. What kind of person would carve such horrible things?

The swath of white and regal violet was broken only by a single blot of scarlet. At the cavern's very end squatted a massive set of double doors. Ruddy veins of rot wove from the edges of the giant doors, lacing through the surrounding, sickeningly pristine rock like some sort of disease. Just above the slabs of ruby metal was a curved plate of tarnishing brass, upon it, inscribed in some kind of lumpy brown paint were the words "_Lasciate ogne speranza, vio ch'intrate_." The meaning of such gibberish escaped him completely, but left a pit in his stomach he wasn't soon going to forget.

A deep growl from the doors brought his attention from the roof. The diminutive black mage felt his heart freeze as his glowing sight met with six angry eyes set over three drooling maws. He fell back in his cage from the shock of what he saw; but to his traumatised senses, he never hit the ground.

* * *

The centre ring was empty.

Amarant was no fool. He wasn't superstitious, either. But there was something here, something he had missed before, that just screamed 'evil'.

He didn't really believe in the whole 'good versus evil' thing, either. There was just too much diversity involved. What one person called 'evil' had a good chance of being called 'good' by someone else. Kind folks had just as much power to be inexplicably cruel. Sadists had the ability to work miracles of the heart. In some way or another, everything was balanced out. So really, everything was a shade of grey in the end. Such was his frame of mind, despite what he had seen on his travels with the blonde monkey.

Though he may not be a believer in 'evil', the atmosphere of the once happy tent wanted to make him curl into a ball and pray. And that was really saying something, since he wasn't exactly a man of religion.

He scanned the shadows in caution, looking for any betraying element that could warn him of any unseen threats, be they human or no.

"Welcome, welcome."

Amarant whipped his head around. Standing before the purple backstage curtain was the Ringmaster. He hadn't see him pass the curtains… He stopped dead in his tracks.

The man in the top hat grinned at him in a toothy manner, showing off a rather carnivorous set of pearly whites. He tipped his hat to the giant. "Welcome, my good friend," he greeted, peering at him lazily through yellow eyes. "I have been expecting you."

Amarant said nothing. He scrutinised the man from head to toe.

The Ringmaster cocked his head to one side, smiling, hands on his whip placidly. He, in turn, was surveying the bounty hunter. He tsked in disapproval shortly afterwards, shaking his well-groomed head. "My, not entirely what I had envisioned, tsk."

The redhead blinked in confusion.

The man laughed. "Oh, well. It doesn't entirely matter. I still have a purpose to fulfill, regardless of my expectations." He straightened his whip in both hands. He grinned at the pale giant.

"Who are you?" questioned Amarant.

The other didn't lose his smile. "Oh, but you already know," he replied.

The buzzing in his head grew in magnitude. That's what his double had said. What does it mean? He didn't know these people. "Cut the crap," he said, trying to hide his discomfort at the humming's expense. "Who are you and what have you done with my friends?"

"Such an over-used line," taunted the Ringmaster. He lifted his shoulders in silent merriment. "My identity does not matter. I am but a small piece in a game of a much grander design," he admitted shamelessly. He looked at the intruder almost hungrily from under his hat. "One that you would know well," he added quietly. He gripped his whip tightly with his gloved hands, making the rubber squeak against his palms. "Now then," he cracked the instrument to his right. "I suggest you say your prayers. I'll make you dance your last."

Amarant snorted. "Now who's using bad lines?" he commented, flexing his fists. "If you don't talk now, I'll beat my answers out of you," he threatened calmly.

The opposite man fingered his collar in annoyance. "Humph, I'm sure you'll try." He cracked his whip again. A sick collection of wet snaps sounded from under the Ringmaster's clothes. The man began to laugh maniacally. White rivulets of froth dribbled down the sides of his mouth as he threw his head back in morbid mirth.

The bounty hunter swore that the man was going to keel over.

The crazed figure's laughter rang about the tent, causing the entire structure to resonate with it. The weave of his impressive clothing began to bunch and squirm as if something, or a mass of somethings, was trying to fight its way out. Then the man's legs just seemed to _disappear_.

The disproportionate man nearly gagged.

The Ringmaster's lower half had exploded in a rush of orange and red bodily fluids, replaced by a living, writhing mound of hissing, clicking maggots and flies. The remainder of the body rose with every heave of the mountain of chitinous flesh, towering over the startled bounty hunter in seconds. The circus whip hung lamely at his side. The creature halted his laughter to peer down at him in an almost disgusted manner, his face, once shapely, was now horribly distorted and bloated by the ravenous insects crawling about the skin.

"What an ugly bastard you are," sneered Amarant to the thing looking down on him.

The Ringmaster bubbled sickly. "Pitiful creature, you have no idea of what you trifle with." The whip snapped to attention, cutting through the air like a shard of abused shrapnel. The giant sidestepped the attack easily, the tail of the weapon cracking on thin air. The creature hissed and readied the whip for another swipe.

Amarant was light on his feet, evading every strike from the black whip. He was at a slight loss, however, on how to deal with this new threat. His enemy was a mass of brown maggots and God knew what else. His claws would be useless against the thing's main bulk, and he didn't really have any chance of getting up to the head any time soon. He would have to think of something else to fell his opponent with, and he had to do so soon, he could only dodge and flip around like a fish for so long.

The whip seemed to increase in length with every snap, the tail splitting into multiple parts, each one capable of entrapping the pale redhead in the blink of an eye with one miscalculated step.

The entire centre ring was slowly being flooded with the diseased forms of the Ringmaster's pet maggots. The black flies flew were the whip could not reach, darting all around in a sickly haze of chitin and gossamer. Those that landed on the bounty hunter instantly began to bite at him, tearing his flesh with impossible ease. Amarant swatted at the bugs in vain attempts at relief, his shoulders pocked with unsightly bleeding sores in mere seconds.

Soon the entire tent was a haze of angry, miniscule black bodies.

Amarant was having more and more trouble dodging the whip. The air was so thick with the hideous bugs that he could hardly see the creature at the centre of it all. He couldn't keep the insects off of him. The ground was slick with maggots. His skin was nearly crawling with flies.

The cruel whip snapped out of nowhere, just cracking against his face, splitting his left cheek open. He bit back a cry, more for the fact that he would drown in a fog of flies than anything else if he even attempted to open his mouth. With the stench of fresh blood seeping through the miasma of winged filth, the insects converged on him, buzzing hysterically. The bounty hunter dove for cover. But where could he possibly go? Damn it, if he only had a frigging flyswatter he'd--

He instantly brightened. He leapt out of the way of another whip smack, making for the ring's edge. He hoped he wasn't diving into his own funeral. A grand, wooden support stood defiantly against the aerial onslaught of the flies. Amarant wove towards it like a stranded sailor would an offered lifeline. He quickly wound around behind it as the Ringmaster's weapon bit into the wood, chips and splinters flying from the post from the force of the attack. He tried to quickly order his thoughts. He didn't have anything big enough to make this work. But if he could fool that… demon?… then he might be able to pull it off. But how?

His inquiry was interrupted as the whip shot from the side of the beam, winding around his arm sharply. The thing bit into his skin. A vicious tug nearly tore him from his post. Amarant pulled against the leather straps with al his strength, trying to loosen the hold it kept over him. The Ringmaster's laughter erupted amongst the horde of flies. "No use!" he jeered. "Give up, beast! I'll send you to a deep and well-deserved grave!"

_Screw that!_ He wasn't going to die today, not at the hands of some bug-freak in any case. He gave a hardy pull on the whip, giving himself a small amount of slack. Just enough. He quickly ran around the wooden support post in a tight loop, keeping the end of the whip in his grasp. The sharp tails of the weapon continued to bite into him, the buzzing of the flies drowning out his hearing, the bodies of the maggots made the floor slick and treacherous. He felt the Ringmaster pull on the whip. He held his ground.

Every nerve in his body was screaming for him to let go and retreat. Who cared about what happened to the monkey and his moronic posse? Let the Alexandrians find themselves a new Queen! There'll be one less brat in the world! One less hopeless romantic! One less cry-baby!

So? What of all that?

It was true that he could care less about what happened to those fools, but he was here for himself. They just happened to be in the middle of it. There was something here, something he wanted more than anything. Answers.

There was a loud crack, a groaning of wood. Amarant was suddenly hauled forward as the slack wound around the post was pulled taught. The entire tent seemed to shrink around him as the roof came crashing down.

The haze of flies was suddenly reduced to ashes, insect forms dissolving to grey dust. The maggots, free from whatever force had kept them under service, wormed into the ground, slowly revealing the packed earth below them. The redhead unwrapped the whip from his arm absently, letting it drop to the ground. He followed its black length to where an ugly stain pooled amidst the retreating larvae.

He cringed slightly. The wooden support had fallen lengthwise upon the sadistic Ringmaster, effectively crushing the man's body into the flat earth. The well-groomed head of the entertainer was more or less untouched, poking out from the side. He still had the whip tightly clasped in his hand.

Well, he wasn't going to get any more out of that character. He turned away. Maybe the others were still here, whether or not their captors had taken them from the area entirely was still up in the air. There was only one way to find out otherwise, so he psyched himself for a small game of search and rescue.

"Never turn your back on an enemy, boy!"

The black leather of the wicked whip was wrapped threefold around his neck in a blink. He instantly doubled over, clutching at the bonds with both hands as his breath was cut unnaturally short.

The Ringmaster, badly bruised and beaten, rose up from the soiled ground on a small peak of worms and maggots still bound to his will. Foam and froth still clung to the sides of his mouth, his lips curled back in a vicious sneer. He gnashed his carnivorous teeth hungrily, sending threads of spit tumbling to the ground at his feet. "You're a menace to Their plan." He tightened the whip's hold with a small tug. "I'll see to it that you never leave this tent alive!"

Sparks were flying about before his vision haphazardly. He couldn't breathe. He groped at his neck feebly as the feeling in his fingers began to fade.

"How pitiful," mocked the creature as the bounty hunter dropped to his knees. "Are you truly so weak? I'm sorry to think that you were expected fulfill so much." The sickly being began a new round of maniacal laughs in early celebration of his victory. In his distraction he was totally unprepared when his prized whip flew from his grasp.

Amarant hurriedly unwrapped the weapon from his throat, taking in great gulps of the stale air. He quickly pulled the whip out of the Ringmaster's reach, turning to face him defiantly. "Care to repeat that?" he demanded sarcastically. "Because I think I missed that last bit."

The maggot lord snarled at him. "Swine!"

"Watch your mouth, bug-breath, or I'll clean it for you."

"Fool!" screamed the Ringmaster, clutching at his ears in frustration.

The bounty hunter leapt.

The Ringmaster could not hide his pained expression of surprise as a triple set of serrated blades found home in his clavicle. The creature fell backwards from the weight of his foe atop of him, hitting the floor hard.

With his feet placed solidly over the monster's wrists, the giant thought it a fair time to reinstate his former inquiries. "Alright, smart-ass, start talking," he demanded.

New rivulets of white froth streamed from the corners of the entertainer's lips. "Go home, worm," he hissed, giggling in the mounting fever of death.

"Where did you take my companions?" he questioned angrily. He didn't have time for this. He wanted answers _before_ the idiot keeled over. "Talk!" he commanded, pushing his wrist knives further into the inhuman flesh of the Ringmaster.

The thing just gurgled merrily. "Them? Do you truly wish to know?"

"That's a rhetorical question if I ever heard one," he snapped.

The other laughed. "Their souls will rest below the Roots of Evil," dark blood began to pool upwards from his throat. "You can do nothing. You may have bested me, but far greater servants of Their Master await you in the darkness that lies there."

"A fear of the dark is for children," spat the bounty hunter.

The Ringmaster laughed harder. "Hah! Oblivious creature! You are but a child in the eyes of Their Master!" He suddenly fell silent, frozen in the throws of merry delirium as death finally descended upon him.

Amarant just stared. He then stood up and swore lavishly, removing himself from the inhuman corpse of the master of ceremonies, the beastly whip still in hand. He had reached a dead end. 'Roots of Evil'? There were several reasons why he never liked riddles, and the fact that they never gave a straight answer was one of them. He swore again, scanning the interior of the tent with a sharp eye.

The purple drapery of the backstage curtain remained open. With a dignified snort he stalked towards it.

Just who was this 'Master' person? And him, a child? The very notion angered him to no end. He was not so weak and naïve as such! He had travelled the world! He had fought more monsters than a bard could conjure! He was no child! He shoved the curtain aside in irritation.

The back was empty.

He ducked inside, surveying the shadowed room carefully. Animal cages of all sizes littered the place haphazardly, thrown against walls and stacked precariously on top of each other. A single mirror, its shine terribly out of place amongst the swaths of grey and earth, laid in the centre of the back room. The persistent hum took a nearly demanding tone as he focussed on it.

A definite aura surrounded the looking glass. The jaded monk was at a slight loss. Auras belonged to people, not inanimate objects. Most could only be felt. But this one, could practically be _seen_. A cloud of black energy meandered about the golden frame aimlessly, flecked with sparks of dormant malice. It was almost as if the thing was _alive_.

Before he knew it, he was standing at the mirror's base, looking into its depths. What was glimmering there to greet him was not his reflection, but an unreal image of the Iifa Tree. _Wait a minute…_ 'Roots of Evil', hm?

If there was anything to match that description, it was the Iifa Tree.

But how was he to get there? Even on an express trip it would take five days at best to reach the shores of the Outer Continent, and an extra three to hike through the barren wasteland that surrounded the machine to reach it. Feh, the others would be six feet under by the time he got there.

Unless… He knelt on the ground, an idea coming to mind. He reached out tentatively with a hand, gingerly touching against the shimmering surface of the looking glass. His finger met no resistance, flowing past the silver barrier to empty air beyond. _So_, he thought, _this was what that clone was using_. He pushed his hand all the way through, then pulled it back, examining the appendage critically. Finding nothing out of place, he stood up. He looked at his right hand, which was carrying the Ringmaster's savage black-leather weapon. The thought of just leaving it didn't entirely appeal to him, for some reason. With a slight shrug he tied it to his belt. He reverted his attention back to the waiting mirror. "Well, here goes nothing…"

With a small part of him screaming for him to turn away, he jumped into the wavering reflective face, disappearing in a blink.

* * *

**I like cliffhangers... **

**Since you all seemed to enjoy the last teaser tidbit, I thought you all would like another one. Bwaha! This is from a chapter that won't be up for a while, but I figured that it would only be fair to give you all a heads-up of what's to come.**

* * *

A loud metallic bang sounded from the other side of the iron chamber. The sweaty redhead looked up, eyes wide. A creature, at least seven feet tall and wearing nothing but a meat-cutter's bloodstained smock, stood amongst the white mist. Its head was long and wedge shaped, the tip of its pointed nose reaching past its chest. A small mouth crammed with shark's teeth opened in a fierce snarl as it pinned the bounty hunter with an angry glare with its beady black eyes. It huffed and roared up at the unseen ceiling, shaking its head. Spittle flew from its mouth, its gore encrusted ponytail waving wickedly behind it. It brandished a huge, bloody, deadly looking butcher's knife in its right hand, the missing member of the collection of blades from the wall. The beast ended its cry, bringing the massive knife down hard upon the grilled floor. Sparks flew, but the blade was unharmed. It pointed at him with an oddly dainty hand, hissing threateningly.

"You're gonna suffer, man…" said the mouth of the butchered man. "It's gonna catch you and make you into a roast… But you won't die! No!" he shouted hysterically. "You be alive for it all! The chopping! The baking! The _eating!_"

The redhead moved away from the table in slow, backwards steps, his mind swimming in painful loops. What was this? What was this place? What was that thing?

The giant chef roared at him, starting for his shaking form, dragging the massive knife behind it.

* * *

**And that's all for this week; but there's still plenty more to come, so hold on to your hats! I'll see you all again in fourteen days!**

**If anyone happens to come across any errors that I have missed, spelling or otherwise, please feel free to tell me, and I'll correct it ASAP. (I'm a terrible perfectionist.)**


	8. P2: iv

Disclaimers: Zidane and his nutty posse all belong to Squaresoft and its slave Enix.

But most of the other stuff is mine.

* * *

**iv - Auditions, Anyone?**

He landed lightly, taking in his new surroundings. Amarant let out a small huff of annoyance. Alright, so he was here. Now what? He gave the landscape a second look. There was no sun. No clouds. Weird veins of something wound on the ground and the sky. The Iifa Tree seemed untouched, though darker, and if possible, more menacing. There was still no Mist pouring from the roots, just as it should be.

For Heaven's sake, he should just turn around and go home. He stood there with his hands on his hips. He had no obligations to save them, they got themselves into this. He had already paid his debt to the fool monkey. Unfortunately, whatever conscience he still had was badgering him to 'do the right thing'. Sighing heavily he stomped off towards the dead tree, knowing he was going to hate every minute of his new quest.

* * *

Where were they? Where were those creeps taking them? Eiko raged silently by herself, gripping the bars of her cage vehemently. There was something wrong with this place, aside from its obvious, hideous looks. There was _magic_ everywhere. There was so much, any mage could call upon the energies without the aid of a material link, such as a staff. Or at least, it _should_ be that way. There was more than enough magic, for white or black spells, but it was rampant, viral. It was dangerous.

She may only be eleven years of age, but her lineage came with a passing of knowledge. The energies of the magicks weren't to be trusted. Even Summoners of the greatest talents and discipline could not wholly control the power with which they were entrusted by blood. The use of magic, whether for good or evil, took a toll upon its wielder to compensate for the shift in the world's balance. For some, it was merely a temporary loss of stamina, others, the loss of the actual spell itself until it was relearned. These were the least of any magic user's problems. Frivolous casting of the surreal powers of the elements could lead to insanity, as her grandpa had once told her before his death. Some, he had said, had lost their very humanity in exchange for the strength magic offered, reduced to mere husks of human existence, their souls lost in some abysmal purgatory.

Magic that spell casters utilised was 'tame'. It could be found anywhere, drawn from any source provided that the material link used to funnel the powers had enough strength to tap into the reservoirs available. But the energies here, were far from any tame source she had ever encountered. It was raw… buried, flying, swimming, digging… everywhere. This was the kind of stuff that got you into trouble, the kind that involved mass destruction, hatred, death… things that hurt more than just your enemies.

She had always wondered where the first Summoners of her tribe had attained their gift of magic casting and summoning. The stories etched upon the great Eidolon Wall went back hundreds of generations, but only so far. The oldest of the records were so weathered that they were eventually forgotten entirely, by both tribesman and phantom servant alike. She had always thought that the Moogles would know, but she could never get anything out of them. It sometimes felt as though they were hiding it from her, but she eventually let the matter lie, sure that it would all be revealed to her when the time was right. 'There is a time and place for everything, Eiko', her grandpa always told her. 'Even knowledge must be earned'. Eiko could admit now that she was not a patient girl, she would want things, and want them right then and there. In a way, that was what had partially lead to her habit of thievery. She was sure now, after many years of harsh experience and blinding enlightenments, that the dwarves of Conde Petie would have probably given her a job of some kind, to earn food for both her and the Moogles, rather than to just simply take what was not hers to begin with.

They were far underground, but how far, she could not tell. They had passed through the red gate and its guardian. The beast, a monster in every sense of the word, had tried to gobble them up. But their captors' leader, the fake Amarant, had told it off. He had spoke one word, and the thing cowered under his gaze, shaking and shivering. There was something about him (or it?). He was practically _overflowing_ with rampant magicks, energies that she couldn't even begin to place names to. There was so much, too much, for any human to wield with even the most advanced of material links. Of course, she knew that he wasn't human. That in itself was so painfully obvious that it hurt. Anybody who willingly tried to copy that jerk of a bounty hunter couldn't be human, anyway.

So where were they now? Truly?

Eiko didn't have even the slightest idea. They were currently being towed down yet another pillared hallway, darker and smothered in the earthy tones of sand and soil. Torches, purple torches, lined the spaces between the innumerable columns of ochre stone, burning from on high in tiny mesh cages. Just like in the room before, the decor was made up entirely of screaming angels and grinning skeletons. It was somehow sickening and so oddly perverse. The floor was polished with earthy marble, flecked with shreds of gold and copper. The hallway stretched away into every direction, the pillars fading off into the darkness in the far distance.

If this had been but two years earlier, she wouldn't have hesitated to summon Madeen, her constant companion. But with the incredible concentration of power present in this place, even with a link, the summon would have simply overloaded her spirit, and destroyed her and everyone around her. There was just too much. She was oddly glad that they had been disarmed. A least no-one would be temped to cast any spells. She doubted that Freya could sense the critical levels of magic in the atmosphere, and wasn't sure that Dagger would be able to reliably read them. Vivi, she was sure, could feel the unnatural flux of the surreal energies. But still, they were without weapons.

But that was no problem for her.

Being a princess was nice, but that didn't mean that she couldn't still pick locks for her freedom.

* * *

The sun, or vortex, or whatever it was, was beating down on the bounty hunter.

Amarant was getting more and more irritable with every passing moment. The Iifa Tree was certainly a lot closer, but wasn't really helping his resolve. The thing, machine or not, smelled of rot. The stench was rank and disgusting, and he wasn't entirely anywhere near it. He silently cursed whatever force had given him the enhanced senses he possessed, resisting the urge to pinch his nostrils shut, more out of the fact that he simply didn't really want to than anything else.

The buzzing hadn't left him. It wasn't any louder than before, but it had grown considerably in magnitude, making his skull reverberate with the unseen vibes.

It was driving him mad. Never before in his life had anything like this ever happened to him, the buzzing. It ate away at his nerves with astounding force, bringing him to the brink a lot faster than any material foe he had ever faced.

He found himself wondering if it had anything to do with his heritage.

The redhead could not remember his parents, or where he was born. He just seemed to 'wake up' somewhere along the timeline of his memories. More than once he had dropped his rather… unlawful profession to undertake a small pilgrimage for himself, to look for any indication, no matter how small, of who he could truly be. He had always known that he was most likely a half-breed of some kind, which easily accounted for the total lack of anyone else even remotely sharing the same characteristics that he possessed. There was probably some giant blood flowing around in his veins, which would explain his height, and his temper.

That fact that he couldn't remember anything had always bothered him. How far had he tried to delve into his store of recollections to find out? Countless, hundreds, thousands of times? As far as he could ever go, but he always stopped at the same place, unable to dig any further. The rain… the blood… It was always the same, always so disturbingly clear.

_Do you see the blood?_

He pushed the thoughts away, he had more important things to think about. Before his stilled feet rested the chasm that spanned beneath the wicked body of the Iifa Tree, choked with roots and decomposing lacings of moss and long dead lichen. But, where he stood, there were no obstructing roots.

Perhaps they had passed this way? He had found numerous tracks, large and beastly, not too far from where he had entered this crazy place. Finding no better lead, he had followed them, and this is where they had lead him. The tracks continued into the pit below, far past his field of vision.

Well, since it was a little late to turn back, he begrudgingly allowed himself to be pulled forward by his own feet, and that pesky little voice in the back of his head.

* * *

The convoy never stopped, the drivers mercilessly whipping their mounts forward. The pack beasts would bellow and snort in annoyance, but comply either way. Before them loomed the end of their current stretch of hallway, another set of red doors blaring out from the earthy tones surrounding it. On either side of this new portal were two giant, robed statues built from a pale stone. Folded, feathered wings were carved out from their backs with broken halos encircling their heads. The statue to the right had both hands on a great sword, impaling itself. The other had its arms spread, head lifted. A spiralled stake had been driven through its left foot, as if to keep it from escaping. Both peered down upon the approaching convoy through lifeless cat's eyes. The Queen gazed up at the colossi through her cold bars to the ceiling. The meaning of such a construction escaped her, but left her feeling cold and belittled.

All around her were the cries of countless folk, many screaming for deliverance by her hand. Some were praying to her, others were cursing her. Why wasn't she doing anything for them? Why wasn't she freeing them? She was their Queen. It was her responsibility. Damn her to the inferno if she did not help them.

But she was only human. As had been both her mothers. Her fathers. Her friends. Her soldiers. Humans could only do so much, see so much, hear so much, feel so much… before finally breaking. That was why men fell in battle. Why women weep over death. Why children eventually stopped being children.

Her dress was torn, nearly reduced to tatters in more than one place. Her coronet still shone, but was hidden by the strands of her hair that had begun to free themselves from her long braid in protest to her mounting stress level. From where she was she could see no sign of the others, though she knew that they couldn't be far.

The shouts of the folk were surrounding her, smothering her. She could only do so much… What could she do? She was not an inherent fighter… She had no rod to channel magic, she could not feel the omniscient presence of the Eidolons… The world was going black at the edges, slowly shrinking to nothing.

Was she going to be lost to darkness? No! She couldn't abandon her people, her friends, her loved ones! She looked about the enveloping darkness frantically, searching for anything she could use to shield herself from the coming shadow and the consuming shouts of the folk. Zidane! Zidane! Where was Zidane? He had been in her arms only a moment ago. But she was alone. There was no-one to help her. She felt as though she was drowning.

The Queen's gaze shifted downwards, catching something out of place. She was missing a shoe. How could she be missing a shoe? She couldn't get her mind off of the discovery. The darkness enveloped her, leaving her in a mental sphere of isolation. She had lost a shoe. She simply could not focus on anything else, forcing every other element of pain and suffering from her tortured mind. The accusing shouts faded to nothing more than a muffled hum. She stared blindly at her one bare foot in morbid obsession, all previous thoughts and concerns washed from her conscious like a wild wind. Soon, the cries of her people faded completely into nothing more than a bothersome hiss, her world shrinking to encompass only her and her lost piece of footwear.

Where is Zidane? prodded a small voice, attempting to dredge her out from the ditch in which she had fallen.

But the voice was too small. The Queen never heard it, never noticing, either, the next gates open for their passing, revealing for the sight of all a hideous, perverted vision.

Men cried out. Women wailed. Children screamed in fear. But the Alexandrian Queen heard none of it.

* * *

Amarant spat out a hunk of dry, hard dirt with a resounding 'pah!' He looked up irritably through the gloom from where he laid on the ground, muttering unpleasant things in a manner that could make a barbarian go white in the face.

He had fallen, foot catching on some stray root on his way down the chasm. He had then tumbled, head over heels, for Gods knew how long, until he had finally stopped, at what was hopefully the end of a very steep slope. The man got shakily to his feet, brushing himself off absently in the suffocating dark. He almost wished he had a torch. Grumbling and muttering to himself he restarted his trek in what he was sure to be the general direction of 'forward'.

After a few steps, a tiny, pinprick of a light came into view far ahead of him. Seeing no better alternative, the bounty hunter set it as his goal, hoping that no cleverly shadowed pits would be opening up conveniently for him to fall into.

The rock formations seemed to change as he walked, the spears of ancient earth hanging from the ceiling steadily thickening to form what slowly became columns of shapely alabaster. Ageless flows of frozen magma morphed into regal violet draperies larger than even those the royal Alexandria Castle held within its dining hall. Exquisitely carved figures of angles, skeletons, demons, and human beings all rose and twisted from the pearly stone, some cowering, some reaching up into the sky, some laughing, some crying.

As lost in the sights as he was, he didn't leave out the unkind blemish upon the sickeningly white cavern that seemed to be a guard dog of some kind.

"HALT!" ordered the beast as he neared, drool threading from its three long jaws.

Amarant stopped a fair distance from the creature, glaring up at it nonchalantly. The thing dwarfed him easily. It was at least four times his size in height alone. But he wasn't about to let that bother him.

"LEAVE NOW, MORTAL!" boomed the thing. "INSECTS SUCH AS YOURSELF ARE NOT WORTHY TO PASS!" It gnashed its teeth threateningly.

The man snorted. "Sorry to break it to you, but I'm going through, whether you like it or not. So do yourself a favour and move."

The beast's multiple pairs of eyes narrowed dangerously. "FOOLISH CREATURE…" it slavered. "NONE PASS ME."

"Is that so?" questioned Amarant, eyeing the ground from under his thick red tresses. Large, misted prints, same as those up above, traced onwards past the great red doors that squatted behind the ugly beast. "I wouldn't quite think so. Some friends of mine came this way, and I have every intent of following them."

The guardian beast growled. It suddenly swiped at him with a massive, dark paw. The giant leapt away, narrowly avoiding the yellowed claws tipping the oversized appendage. "WRETCH! I, CERBERUS, WILL ALLOW NO MORTAL TO PASS!"

"Cerberus, huh?" repeated Amarant. "The guard dog of the underworld? Please."

"FOOL! YOU WILL DIE BY MY STRENGTH!" Cerberus lunged, three maws open wide in hunger.

The redhead ducked and shot forward, sliding under the reach of the triple set of teeth. This? Cerberus? He had heard of the mythical monster before. He had encountered a creature of the same name in the paradoxical Ipsen's Castle, but it had been nothing like this. This beast had three heads, long and hairless. The ears were short and flopped from the sides of the dark skinned craniums. Six fiery green eyes gleamed in slight confusion as the disproportionate man slipped beneath its attack. In its distraction, the beast was caught off-guard as its massive, iron collar pulled against it, the giant black chains holding it to the walls suddenly pulling taught.

The bounty hunter rolled out from under the massive canine as its body came crashing down with a restrained choking noise. He got back up to his feet, combat claws at the ready.

But how was he to defeat this beast? Something so large would only have to take a step back to block the doors, and squash him in the process. But most creatures couldn't withstand a good stab to the heart. Taking a quick calculation, he delivered a forceful punch to the monster's left side. His armed fist nearly tore straight through the obsidian skin. The beast screamed in three voices from the pain. Amarant quickly pulled his wrist knives from the creature, his hand now coated in dark, red ooze. Cerberus took another swipe at him, roaring obscenely.

The monk sidestepped the attack easily, dashing underneath the monster's belly. He brought his claws up as he ran, dragging them along the softer abdominal flesh. A triple score of bloody gashes followed after, spilling vital fluids all over the pristine floor. The beast's internal organs sagged from the slowly widening wounds. The stench that accompanied them was overpowering, nearly knocking the man senseless.

Cerberus howled and began to stomp the ground repeatedly with its four paws, making the earth shake. Amarant quickly removed himself from the immediate space around the Guardian. How could that thing still be alive? It had lost at least ten gallons of blood already, how was it even still standing? At this rate he'd never kill it. He needed a new strategy. "WORM!" shouted Cerberus. "YOUR GRAVE WILL BE MINE TO DANCE UPON!"

The heads.

He needed to get rid of those three ugly faces. Surely even a beast such as this couldn't possibly survive a multiple beheading. But his claws weren't long enough for such a task. They would surely get lodged in the muscles of the necks. And if that happened…

The whip! He momentarily found himself thanking whatever divine force was listening for not letting the thing fall from his belt during the plummet down the pit. The tails of the instrument could easily shear through even this freak's flesh with a well-placed smack, he was sure. However, a small problem decided to ruin his small cloud of happy: he didn't know how to use a whip.

Even so, he darted away from the Guardian, trying to put enough space between himself and the monster's bulk to test the weapon.

Cerberus screamed and howled in agony, shaking its three canine faces. Dark ooze dribbled from between its beastly teeth.

The whip was easily five times as long as he was tall. Amarant was puzzled at this. He was sure that it hadn't been that long… A triple set of jaws snapping just before his figure brought him out of his reverie. He stumbled backwards. The Guardian strained against its tethers to reach the bounty hunter, fury blazing from behind its six green eyes.

Regaining his poise somewhat he swung the cruel whip. He instantly had doubts that the weapon would so much as pinch the thing in front of him.

The five slender whip tails veered towards the collected necks, almost as if under a guiding power of their own. There was a loud crack as the wound leather struck against the throat of Cerberus's right head. The flesh was instantly reduced to bloody tatters, five admirable strokes scoring impossibly deep, cutting through to the windpipe. The thing howled in surprise at the sudden assault.

Amarant wasted no time. Recalling the whip to his grasp with a tweak of his wrist he leapt towards the tortured visage, claws at the ready. With one fell swoop he drove the blades through what little remained of the neck, severing the spinal cord that held the head up upon its shoulders. With a sick tearing of the remaining skin and muscle the canine head fell away, hitting the floor with a dull crash. He landed between the beast's shoulders.

The creature cried out at the loss of its right-most head, seemingly appalled at the amount of damage that something so small, so pathetic, could inflict upon it.

The whip was out in a flash, wrapping around the throat of the left-most head. The visage began to cough and sputter, its airway being steadily forced shut. The middle canine head growled. It wouldn't let some mortal end its ageless existence. It shook its shoulders forcefully, trying to dislodge the pest on its back.

Amarant kept his balance with a trained finesse, tightening the hold of the whip. He pulled on it with mounting force. The assaulted head gagged silently, throwing its maw back in forth in vain attempts of attaining air. He gave a vicious yank. The captured throat buckled beneath the crushing bind of the whip, contracting unnaturally. A soft, wet snap followed slightly after, signalling that the neck had been broken. The head slumped uselessly from the left shoulder as the whip was unwound.

Cerberus reared backwards in a fevered attempt at throwing the man from its back.

Amarant tumbled off, caught off guard by the sudden action.

"YOU… YOU CAN'T BE HUMAN!" bellowed Cerberus, trying to step on him. Two of its three heads were gone. Two! Never before had it experienced such agony. It couldn't allow itself to be bested!

The redhead rolled out of the path of the feet. One more to go.

The massive beast was feeling the icy threads of fear worming into its constitution. No ordinary whip could possibly do so much damage. It had to be blessed, or cursed. It had seen such a weapon once before… when the same caravan had emerged from behind the Gates… But no mere mortal could possibly wield it! "WHAT ARE YOU?" it questioned, moving about warily as its aggressor got back to his feet.

Amarant looked at the thing coldly. "You tell me." He swung the whip.

The cord sang, slashing the third and final throat with as much ease as the first.

Cerberus fought to keep its remaining pair of eyes open as it slumped to the floor in a growing pool of its own blood. Not human, not human, that thing wasn't human! It made a loud gurgling noise as it finally succumbed to death.

The bounty hunter stood there for several minutes.

Once it became clear that the creature wasn't going to come back to life, he fell to his knees. He felt thoroughly drained. He put the whip away absently, breathing heavily.

He began to laugh. It started low; but it steadily got louder. Cerberus was dead. _He_ had killed _Cerberus_, the fabled beast of Hades.

He stopped laughing, falling back.

He scrambled on the ground, slipping on the smooth stone floor. After a few seconds he finally got to his feet, looking rather tussled.

_I killed Cerberus_. The thought was ringing in his mind like a death toll. The buzzing rose in volume slightly. _Cerberus is the legendary guardian of…_ For some reason he couldn't finished the sentence. He felt sick. No way! It couldn't be true… could it? He looked up at the great red double doors now standing unguarded. The inscription, written in… dried blood? He blinked dumbly, shaking his head. This wasn't right!

_Lasciate ogne speranza, vio ch'intrate._

_Abandon all hope, ye who enter here_.

He swore that he was going to cry. He clenched his fists in vain defiance.

He pitched forward, his head swimming under a sudden ungodly force. He sat on his hands and knees, panting. _Poor, poor thing…_

Who are you?

_Shall we skin it?_

Who are you!

_We need it alive._

Leave me alone!

_Too bad…_

Don't touch me!

_Careful, Kaada… It bites._

Goddammit, go away!

_Gah! Damn little beast…!_

He flopped to the ground, his entire body shaking uncontrollably.

What were these voices? Where were they coming from? Was it the hum? Was he finally going mad? He laid there quietly, eyes wide in morbid bewilderment. That's it… he was going home…

_Cowardly creature…_

He nearly broke. He curled his bulk into a confused, suffering ball. Make it stop! Who was doing this? The giant's gaze lifted wearily to the great double doors. This was so wrong… This couldn't be real…

_What a sad reality this world lives on…_

The silent jeers tore into his heart, past all his proverbial boundaries of denial and indifference. But still, he stared at the doors and the bloody inscription above them. His brain hurt. Everything hurt. Were there… answers… to all of this… behind those doors?

No! It wasn't right! It wasn't real! He squeezed his eyes shut. He was dreaming! This was a nightmare! He was still in Treno!

_Do you see the blood?_

No! There was nothing!

_Can't you see the blood?_

There is nothing!

_Its on your hands…_

There was no reunion!

_Its on your face…_

He never went to Alexandria!

_Murderer…_

It isn't real!

"This isn't real!"

The force of his own shout jolted him out of his painful reverie. The voices were gone… The buzzing was gone… Cautiously, he opened his eyes.

White stone, the pool of inhuman gore, the tormented sculptures, the monster corpse, the cruel inscription, the scarlet doors… all of it met his hopeful sight in sadistic delight.

This… was no dream. He was bleeding. Everything ached. He still needed to find the others. He still needed to find his answers.

What little resolve that still remained moulded together within his broken conscious, dragging him back to his feet. Still shaking, he advanced, step by step, to the infernal doors. The portals of impregnable wood and metal waited patiently as he neared, looming over him and the bloody mess he had created at its rotting feet.

He stopped mere inches from the cold, metal-bolted surface, his mind torn. The red wood looked almost wet, as if it were bleeding. With a hesitant hand he pushed reluctantly on the heavy doors. The slabs of unyielding wood, despite their weight, swung inwards smoothly as if freshly greased. A yawning hallway of darkness laid before him between the rot-laced arch of stone, an abyss of unknown length and depth. Not even a wind escaped from the hidden chamber beyond.

The buzzing returned.

Clenching his fists a last time, he stepped forward, allowing the hungry shadows to envelop him completely.

With an ominous groan, the double doors swung swiftly shut, the crash of their closure ringing hollowly throughout the lifeless chamber.

* * *

The remaining Knights of Pluto had been assembled. Out of the fifty under Steiner's command, eighteen of them were either dead or grievously injured. The beast that had assaulted the castle had disappeared, as far as they knew. There was a fair chance, however, that whatever the monster was could be harassing the civilians, or worse.

"Alright, men," began the senior Knight. "We have a crisis on our hands. Her Majesty, Queen Garnet, has been kidnapped, and several of our brother Knights have been slain at their posts. We can only assume the worst. We will sweep this city for any clues as to her whereabouts or those of her guests." He paced before his fellow Knights. "Her very life may rest in our hands!"

The younger swordsmen exchanged uneasy glances. None really felt keen on going against the same freak of nature that tore eighteen of their number to pieces.

Even the Alexandrian Knights, the women warriors that had once been under the great General Beatrix's command, stood at attention under the aging gaze of the Pluto Captain. They, too, had been assaulted by the unidentified intruder. Just as many of their number, including their newest General, miss DelaCroix, had been brutally slain, and they, on the other hand, were keen on getting even.

"Alright!"

They all straightened as the old commander stood rigid before them.

"We will begin a search throughout the city and the surrounding countryside for any trace of Her Majesty and her companions. You have all been assigned to your groups, and proceed with your assigned sectors as planned immediately."

The assembled Knights saluted.

"Good. Let's get to work."

* * *

_--There was much excitement above--It made them wriggle--They climbed and crawled over one another in mounting euphoria--Master, Master!--They could feel the presence of their Master--Master, Master!--Nothing mattered to them more--They shuffled and rolled about the cesspools in the impregnable dark, bumping and bowling over one another--But such didn't matter to them--The darkness was as pure as daylight to them--Master, Master!--They awaited their Master--Chants of unholy praise rose through the dark--_

* * *


	9. P3: i

Disclaimers: Zidane and his marching petting zoo all belong to Squaresoft and its parasitic double, Enix.

But everything else, including the creepy voices, is mine.

* * *

**Part 3: TO MAKE READY**

**i - Puppets And Contortionists**

The darkness melted away like a slime, revealing a stone hallway of endless pillars and chained torches. Amarant stood there in dumbfounded silence, still coming to terms with the discovery of his true location.

But it still didn't make any sense! The underworld? Existing beneath the accursed Iifa Tree? The Iifa Tree was a machine of war! Put there by Garland and his twisted army! Nothing made sense!

He shook his head. There was still a good chance that all of this was a load of total crock; a prank, nothing more. It could be a bad dream. Or an illusionary extension of that horrid Circus tent.

By the time his thoughts of denial had run their course, the redhead finally realised that he was moving. His feet had carried him a long ways down the marble hallway, leaving the entry far behind. He forcibly stopped himself, looking back the way he had come. He couldn't see the door he had just passed through. Already, he had gone so far that it was no longer in sight. How? He turned in place, gazing dejectedly down the length of polished stone. Reluctantly, he turned back. He couldn't go back now… He had to move forward; for his own sake, if not for those he had followed this far. He snorted in an attempt to alleviate his depression. Since when did the Flaming Amarant give himself pep-talks? Never!

He marched, half-heartedly, forward.

* * *

The cries pulled him up from the tar of unconsciousness. Twitching stiffly in his cage, Zidane focussed on the voices, trying to push the blackness away. The cries got louder and louder, rising to a painful cacophony of screams. Too loud! The tailed thief tried to push the noise away now, not sure if he wanted to see what could be causing such a racket. The noise sharpened, and a light finally came into view. He closed his eyes quickly, the awkward blaring making them smart. Twisting painfully, he put his gloved hands over his ears. What was going on? It sounded as if he was surrounded by screaming people. The ground was cold and uncomfortable, as if he was laying on a collection of thin rods. An odd swinging sensation made him feel as though he was caught in a float spell.

With the ach in his eyes subsiding, he chanced a look about his surroundings. Now he should be able to sort all this commotion out. "Wha?" he slurred. Was he in… a cage? He whipped his head around. He was surrounded by cages, hanging from poles. Each had but one occupant, and those that he could see were shrieking and wailing as if it was the end of the world. He gripped his bars, trying to see what was carting him and his fellow prisoners, but the cages behind and in front of him obscured his view. He could hear the snap of driving whips over the cries of the people. What was going on? He racked his brain for any recollection. He had been in the Library… with Garnet and the others… but… something had happened. He gasped, the memories of the old Knight falling to his knees, Amarant stabbing him in the stomach with a fire poker before everything went black... Anger flared in his breast. Was that bounty hunter behind all of this as well? He had said something about a 'plan'; could this have something to do with it? Alright, so he had a vague idea of what was happening; so, then, where was he?

That wasn't quite as easy to answer. The earth below the swinging cages was red and dry, devoid of vegetation or life. The sky was a sick orange, deepening to a near scarlet erratically, looking as though it was composed of melting rock. What kind of place was this? He had travelled all over Gaia, and had never come across any landscape like it, above or below ground. He strained to see around the pack beasts and the neighbouring prisons, hoping to put a name to their locale. Maybe they were on the Outer Continent. It could just be bad weather that was causing his confusion. Someone yelled over the cries, an order of some kind. From the corner of his metal box, Zidane could see a wall, huge and black, rear up on the horizon. Whatever was carrying his group of prisoners seemed to take a misstep, making the collection of cages swing savagely. The thief's plane of view widened for a split second, revealing to him several lines of screaming folk, just like his own, lined up ahead. He also saw the doors of the black wall, dark and foreboding.

The caravan didn't stop. Another order, from the far front, sounded, carrying across the convoy clearly. Whatever was stationed on the other side of the wall heard it as well. With a stony clank and crash, the entry gates groaned loudly and began to steadily open, a crack of orange sky bleeding between the two slabs of stone. Whips stung at the trudging pack beasts, urging them to march faster. Zidane was scouring his group of unhappy prisoners for any sign of his friends. Try as he might, he could not locate either Vivi, Eiko, Freya, or Garnet. He even gave a quick glance for the traitorous Amarant, with whom he now had a serious bone to pick. He stomach stung sharply with his movements, forcing him to sit still. He put a hand over where the pain bloomed, hoping that the wound hadn't been reopened. A deep chant rose amongst the screams and cries for deliverance, starting at the front. The tailed acrobat lifted his head, his features pinching into a fierce frown. He recognised the lead voice. It was Amarant. Soon, the rest of the convoy drivers took up the chant, pumping their fists in the air in perfect rhythm.

"_Edirp, Ynottulg, Htarw, Yvne, Deerg, Htols, Tsul!_"

The chant made his head ach terribly. Was it some kind of spell?

With the unnatural caravan past the wall's border, the heavy gates slammed shut. The prisoners were whimpering and wailing, cowering in their cages in fright. Zidane looked around with mounting disgust. Dark shelters, made of a material he could not place, lined the dry streets. Strange, grey forms shuffled about between the cramped buildings, darting in and out of sight. Amongst them were other figures, almost human in appearance, but hidden. Some peered out windows, others from behind walls. Were these… people? The tailed boy strained to see.

One of the darker figures detached itself from the shadows, slowly meandering towards the cages. Zidane's disgust quickly degraded to horror as the thing came into full view. It was, or had been, human. Its skin was so charred it was nearly black, flesh pulled unnaturally tight over the skeleton. It walked with a bad limp, its legs bent at awkward angles. It made strange, desperate noises as it neared, its lipless jaws seemingly locked shut. Burnt rags hung off its limbs in a sad parody of noble robes, with tarnished rings of metal clinging to its wrists and fingers. Others, similarly disfigured, emerged from hiding. The drivers began to shout at them, as if to tell them to leave. The boney shades paid no heed, converging on the cages with surprising speed. All the folk locked inside the metal cages began to scream in terror as the creatures clutched and clawed at the living flesh behind the bars. The tailed thief tried to ward his harassers away as it quickly became clear that they weren't here to help.

The charred fingers dug into flesh and cloth, trying to pull the prisoners out from their cages by force. Most tried to keep at the back of their boxes, where the things could not reach them as easily. Others, were not so lucky. Managing to grasp a lock of hair or a stray piece of clothing, the skeletal creatures dragged the traumatised people forward. They pulled at them mercilessly, refusing to relinquish their prize even as the caravan's drivers cut at them with their whips and kicked at them from their seats. Men and women that were hauled forward in their tiny cages were gripped and grabbed by innumerable hands pulling in all directions. Seemingly fighting over what they had found, the blackened things tore the unfortunate folk apart. A head of hair tipped with bloody skin came away in one set of hands, a crushed arm in another. The reek of death swept over the caravan like a miasma, twisting the stomachs of the prisoners, and calling more of the shambling beings into the fray. Seeing that their catch was slowly being destroyed, the drivers halted their beasts and jumped down to the ground to curb the slaughter. Zidane fought off his multiple opponents as well as he could, his arms already bleeding from the innumerable scratches his new foes inflicted upon him.

A chorus of shouts erupted, followed by a pile of the creatures catapulting into the air. The acrobat watched as a large, pale fist ploughed into the attackers from the side, barrelling them all over, and crushing the skulls of more than one. The things began to moan and yowl obscenely, covering their heads with their scrawny arms and shuffling away as fast as they could. Even with their retreat evident, the rampaging redhead didn't stop his train of pain. With a few well placed strikes he crushed the legs of several of the grovelling creatures, hollering at them in an ugly language Zidane didn't even want to know the name of. Those that still clung to the cages were swiftly punished, their bodies reduced to literal splinters with one fell swoop of the bounty hunter's fists.

The thief was appalled. Dark ooze spotted the giant's green clothing and flaming hair. The man's attacks on the limping beings were vicious and feral, unlike anything he had ever witnessed before. Not even in the most wild of opponents had he seen such savagery. With the burnt husks of human form scrambling back to wherever they had come, the drivers halted their attack, and remounted their beasts. Zidane watched Amarant, former friend and, dare he say hero?, storm back to the front of the convoy, knocking a straggling toothpick of a being clear off its feet with an angry swipe. The thing flew headlong into the wall of a dingy shelter, its head splitting sickly into two with a dry crack and an ugly splatter.

With a jolt, the pack beasts started forward once again.

What kind of place is this?

The question wound around Zidane's head in painful loops. Why was this happening? He couldn't believe what he had just witnessed. All those still conscious were wailing even louder than before, making it all fall harder into reality. This couldn't be real!

His burning arms were telling him otherwise.

* * *

How far had he gone? He had long since lost track of how many steps he had taken, and the hallway hadn't gotten any shorter since the last time he had checked. Had he taken a wrong turn somewhere maybe? He looked around, an infinite space crowded with infinite rows of columns stretched out in every direction. Well, if he had met with a bad turn somewhere along the way, it wasn't very likely that he'd find his way back again.

Best to stick to the row he was on.

What felt to be an eternity passed him by.

At long last, an end to his agonising trek seemed to be in sight. A wall slowly materialised into view, a set of double, scarlet doors glaring out from the stone and marble soon after. The man slowed his pace in uncertainty. Were these the same doors? He looked at them carefully. They were smaller than the previous set, but boasted the same tarnishing plate of brass nailed above them. He gazed over it again. It was certainly not the same set of doors. Where the other had been ringed by fingers of rot, this one sported veins of bruised flesh. Upon the plate of suffering metal above, in dried blood, was a new inscription.

_Eht denmad sluos fo eht Lufedirp tser ylno ereh._

_The damned souls of the Prideful rest only here_.

Amarant frowned at nothing. He didn't now this language. He had never seen it before. And yet… he could read it. What was going on? Why was this happening? He could ask himself these questions a thousand times and not once be any closer to an answer. If he truly wanted them, he had look for them. Answers didn't come to those who needed them, they had to be chased.

But the bounty hunter was starting to have some heavy doubts cloud his mind. Why, honestly, was he here? He could just as easily live out his life in relative bliss even without the supposed mysteries of his life unravelled. Maybe such was for the best. There was still a chance to trace backwards and return to Treno; pretend that it never happened. He didn't have to go back to that fool old Knight. For all that tin can knew, he could have already met a most unfortunate death beside his 'friends'. He had no obligations to pursue the matter any further.

No obligations to anyone, but himself.

Of all the things he could do to, he couldn't lie to himself. Couldn't cheat himself on the ugly truth. Not even once. Not even now. He took everything that came at him by the horns because he refused to hide himself from himself. He had told himself a long time ago that he was essentially a heartless bastard, which was more or less true. He didn't like beating about the bush for anyone, let alone himself. And right now, his heartless bastard of a conscious was prodding him with a sharp stick to move forward. _How will you live with yourself, knowing that you had passed up what could be your only chance to find out who you really are?_ his mind questioned him in his own voice. Feh. There probably were no answers here. He was deluding himself with false hopes. _Is that your newest excuse?_ he taunted himself. _Those freaks know who you are, something you don't, and wish you did. Are you willing to let the infamous Flaming Amarant vanish as a mere anomaly of existence?_ …No.

Like Hell he would.

He had waited for years for a chance, any chance, to unearth his buried identity. And this quest, it seemed, held all the answers he so desperately wanted.

…_Good… Go through the door_.

It was more of a command than a thought, but he didn't care.

Just as before, the doors opened with but a push, and once again a field of blackness greeted him. This time, however, he didn't hesitate to march into the waiting shadows. In an instant the doors shut behind him.

* * *

They had stopped. The false Amarant had gathered his followers in the centre of what appeared to be a town square. Vivi could just make out their voices over the commotion of the cages.

"We have lost ten of the souls, Leader," hissed one of the pale acrobats, its voice lost somewhere between the defining lines of male and female. "The Prideful damned have shorn them."

The fake bounty hunter growled in annoyance. "As long as there is conviction enough, they cannot escape. Hunt them down, they won't know the way to The Light from this vantage. I want them all to be brought to me before any of The Enemy catch wind." The seven acrobats and three of the trampoline artists slinked off into the city upon his order. "Kaada," he called out.

Vivi watched as a tall creature, one he had never seen in the caravan before, stalked towards the redhead, Hura and Gora following closely after it like fawning dogs. Its flesh was twisted as if made of clay, almost a metallic purple in colour, with red highlights everywhere. He could not see its face.

"Kaada," he said again. "There are impurities amongst our unhappy flock, take them away."

The creature called Kaada sucked in a laboured breath. "Wwhhat shall I dooo wittthh them, Leaddder Xxio?" it questioned.

Xio? The shape shifter from the circus? The little black mage was stunned. That thing did all of this? Why?

"I don't care," snapped the freak. "Do what you will with them; mash them, skin them, burn them alive for a hundred years, it matters not; as long as they suffer for what their ancestors have done."

Kaada shuddered with the words. "Asss you wwisshh." It turned on its misshapen heel and trudged towards the assembled cages. With a slight motion of its mismatched hands, Hura and Gora slithered to fetch the unwanted cages.

Who could they be talking about? Vivi watched the jugglers disappear into the mess of prisoners, eliciting cries from those still conscious. A shadow fell over him. He turned his head slightly, already shaking with fear. The purple beast stood before his prison, hissing critically. The young mage nearly blacked out a second time. The thing's face was horribly distorted, warped into opposite expressions on either side; just like the masks of those contortionists… He cried out as it detached the cage from the pole, making it jar about. Vivi hit his already numb wrist in defensive reflex, sending a spear of agony tearing up his arm. The pain threatened to make him vomit. Kaada held the prison at its side uncaringly, waiting for its servants to return. The little magic user's mind was whirling. Xio was talking about him? What was this thing going to do to him? The jugglers returned with two more cages, and swinging inside, were Eiko and the Queen.

* * *

The shadows fell away as quickly as they had come.

A great blasted landscape greeted him. Red, cracked earth laced with black rivulets of something nameless spanned for miles and miles. The sky was a putrid orange tinged with scarlet.

The sight didn't faze him all that much. The reek of the air didn't sting as much as he thought it would.

Amarant didn't move from his new point in space. The tracks of his prey lead forward from where he stood, meandering towards a thin, black line on the horizon. He put a hand over his eyes to get a better view. Was that… a city? He couldn't tell from this distance, the rising heat of the nonexistent sun baking the ground and obscuring his vision.

He looked back fleetingly. All traces of the door, and the wall that had accompanied it, were gone. With only one direction left open, he started for the black smear on the horizon.

* * *

A distant pain brought her back to wakefulness. With a groan she sat up, her cage rocking a little with the movement of the pack beasts. The Dragon Knight nearly screamed. Her arms and legs were practically on fire. Her limbs were scored with scratches and bruises, as if she had just been mauled by a vicious mob. Some were still bleeding. Her coat was in tatters in more than one place, and her helmet was missing. Freya shifted painfully about her prison, baffled by the sudden appearance of the wounds. What had happened? She had fallen asleep, but how could she have slept through an assault such as this? Most had scabbed over, and stung unnaturally.

The convoy stopped. She twisted around in a complete circle in her cage, still in a slight panic. The land had changed. Was this some kind of city? It was ruddy and stunk of misery and death. Something was obscuring the sun, or at least what served as one. She looked up through her bars, and caught her breath. A gargantuan onyx fortress, greater than both the Alexandrian and Lindblum Regent's castles combined in size, loomed over them all. Gears and cogs jutted out from the metal exterior like a contorted clock, clicking and slowly spinning in place. Countless spires rose from its bulk, piercing the sky with an authority that was almost living. Embedded into the largest of the conjoined towers were huge, wet eyes. The massive irises, infected with swatches of diseased colour, twitched and scanned the land laid before them, the slit pupils dilating and contracting continuously. A thick mucus wormed from the base of each oculus, congealing into a pale sludge as it inched downward, streaking the surface of the edifice.

"By the Six Dragons…" she breathed in trembling awe.

She fell back as her prison pole was hoisted from the saddle of the pack beasts by the trampoline acrobats, who were still fully clothed and masked. With one performer at each end, the line of cages was hauled towards the foreboding castle, following after, and followed by, more of the actors with their own poles.

With an ominous crash, the armoured doors of the fortress eased open, groaning loudly. A yawning foyer crafted entirely from black marble accepted them, regal columns spiralling from the ground to disappear into the equally dark, arched ceiling. The unspeaking escorts gathered orderly upon the single blood red carpet beyond the doors, the false Amarant at the forefront, waiting for all to assemble. As the cages passed and hung beside her, Freya could see that several no longer held live prisoners, but brutally massacred corpses. The sight made her sick.

With the last of the prisoners brought inside, the great doors closed behind them. All those captured were quiet, as if silenced by a force greater than their collective misery. Scanning the gathered acrobats and captives, the poser bounty hunter spoke up. "The Harvest is nearly complete, fellow wretches. Come, Our Master awaits these pathetic souls for Judgement and their eternal Sentence upon Its throne." He turned and started down the carpeted hallway. With a collective hiss, the lesser performers followed after him.

Freya clung to her prison's bars, unable to do anything more. She felt helpless and disgustingly weak. Where was here strength? Her Knight's fire? All of it, lost? How could she let such a thing happen? What would her King think of her now, if he saw her? What… would Frately think? Frately… It had all been going so well… and now this. All their progress, stopped short because she had been fooled by a disguise of the one sentient being she considered to be amongst the lowest dredges of existence.

She thought back to Burmecia, her beloved home. She hadn't gotten him to remember anything, but the bond between Frately and herself had grown since the battle against Kuja and Necron had finally ended for good. He loved her, and she loved him. Not too long before the reunion, Frately had proposed to her. The ring, set with a sacred rose stone, was the symbol of their commitment. Of course, she had accepted. How could she not? This was the one man she had ever loved. She had fought beside him, rested beside him, learned beside him. They were perfectly matched. They were meant to marry by midsummer.

But not any more. From the looks of things, she wasn't going anywhere; not back to Burmecia, nor back to her lover.

So entwined in her lamenting thoughts was she that the Knight didn't realise that they reached their destination. One by one the poles of cages were set upon the ground and detached from the links that held the prisons to them. The red carpet had grown to enshroud the whole of the floor between the columns. Before them sat a blemish of the likes Freya had never seen. A colossal mound of flesh, wet and pulsing grew from the wall, extending several feet from the smooth dark face of laced metal and marble. Veins of the stuff wound all about the chamber like arteries connected to a vast and beating heart. Finished with their work, the lesser acrobats left the room, leaving the fake Amarant alone with the innumerable captives.

Waiting for the doors to close, he lifted his head to speak to the oozing sore upon the wall. "Master, your servant returns," he said.

Placed near the front of the sad assembly, Freya watched the man keenly.

There was a sick sound from within the mound, then a reply. "_My loyal child… What did you bring me?_"

The captured folk shuddered and trembled but said nothing. "Offerings unto Your greatness, Master; souls to serve for Your enjoyment and Judgement."

"_Very good, child… But… where is It? Where is what I lost?_"

The fake redhead went stiff. "We could not attain It, Master. But we are confident that It is following after us. We have something It wants."

"_These souls…_"

"Yes, Master."

The mound was silent. Then, "_It had better come unto me, child… Or you will suffer for your tactless weakness for an eternity to come…_"

The man seemed totally unfazed. "Yes, Master."

* * *

Black rocks jutted out of the ground all around him.

Amarant was growing unnerved. The buzzing in his ears had exploded in volume, making his entire body shake with its nonexistent tremors. The dark line upon the horizon wasn't too much closer than it had been before, but it was closer nonetheless.

He came to a slow stop, a tight feeling forming in his gut. Staggering backwards a few steps, he leaned against the bulk of one of the smooth obsidian spires that rose out of the ground. He put a hand over his stomach wearily. When did he last eat? He had breakfast… but that was it. No lunch, no dinner. And he hadn't a crumb on him. "Dammit…" he swore softly.

On top of that, it was as hot as Hell... He grinned stupidly. What irony… whoopee friggin' doo.

Nah, it was only a trick, an illusion, a bad dream. It had to be.

A distant hissing caught his attention. He was instantly on the alert, scanning the wastes before him. Even with his keen sight he could find nothing out of place. He waited, nearly holding his breath.

"Look, look," said a sibilant voice from above.

Amarant twisted his head to look upwards. Squatting at the rock's peak, were two cloaked figures. What looked to be shafts of wood or metal rose from their backs, as if they had been impaled and left to deal with it.

"Nah nah, I see," said the second of the pair. "Not something one should catch here, hmm?"

"No no," replied the first.

"How foolish it must be. It didn't hear us coming."

"Yes, most sad. But it looks scrumptious, no? Look at all the meat on it," it observed, pointing at the redhead with a boney finger.

The bounty hunter took several, deep, quiet breaths. Good God what were these things? He wondered if he could make a run for it…

"Such a dirty mind!" admonished the second thing, shaking a finger at him reproachfully. "How dare you, squealing swine, to even think the title of the Enemy!"

"And don't try running," put in the other. "We would catch you easy. Make you scream and make you cry for us."

The big man said nothing.

The awkward pair were silent for a few seconds, as if considering something. Then the second piped up. "Do you feel it?" it questioned the other quietly, hand to the side its face for 'confidentiality'.

"Yes…," consented the first, stroking whatever served as its face from beneath the concealing folds of its hood. "Rather familiar, no?"

"Yes yes. Much like that of the Greatest Ego…" it trailed off, hissing in contemplation.

"Perhaps it is a damned one?" suggested the other.

"This far out? What foul-blessed luck must have we."

"By chance it may be just a truly horrible soul," it mused.

"Ooh! Then we may scalp and quarter it, yes?" squealed the one on the right as it bounced gleefully on the balls of its feet, miraculously keeping its squatting position upon the rock's peek.

"Oh yes, a soul to torture for ourselves, how delightful," agreed the one to the left, clapping its hands in some morbid display of mirth.

"Don't touch me," said the redhead almost automatically.

The two things were quiet. Then, "ooh, it can speak!" breathed the second.

"If it can talk, then it can scream," said its partner philosophically. "Scream for us, thing," it demanded suddenly.

Amarant was getting angry. He wasn't enjoying being analysed in such a fashion. "Bite me," was his reply.

The two creatures looked insulted. "What nerve! We have dignity, you know!" pouted the first of the cloaked things.

"Ooh yes, can't go around eating without cleaning it first," put in the second snobbishly.

"Stupid thing, we are your superiors. Best to show great respect." They both puffed up their chests in an almost comically important manner. "Bow down!"

"Like Hell I will," retorted the man, sneering in contempt. "And just who are you?" he questioned sarcastically. "I see no reason to bend over for a sick pair of creeps such as yourselves."

Two pinpricks of red light shone from beneath each of the concealing hoods. "We are Pride," they both said at once.

"Rulers of the damned of the First Level," continued the first.

"To torment and torture is our purpose," added the other.

"Yeah? Well, I didn't come here for that, so go find yourselves some other chump to toy with," snarled the man, pushing himself from the rock.

"Fool. Insects such as you would understand not," hissed the being on the right. "The divine providence of sin has brought you here, and here is where such fickle creatures as you suffer until eternity's end."

"For your insolence we will rend your flimsy flesh from your brittle bones," added the creature to the left. "No requiem will serve or save you."

His anger was growing. It felt almost alien.

_Are you going to let them talk to you like that?_ hissed his internal voice.

"It won't be me who will be in need of a requiem, you _worms_," the giant spat dangerously, clenching his fists. Somewhere, he knew he was pushing it, but a different part of him simply didn't care.

The creatures' eyes burned with a new intensity. "How _dare_ you, mere _mortal!_ Your flesh will be burned over the ceremonial pits in honour of Our Master, whilst your body is feasted upon by the Progeny! Your suffering will be long and most entertaining to watch!" They both leapt from the obsidian rock, landing lightly before the man. "Prepare to be broken, wretch!" they threatened at the same time.

A wide grin broke over his face. It felt unnatural to him. He should be running! Not taunting these things! Who knew what they could do? The black pit in the back of his mind seemed to grow, feeding off his frustration. He tried to fight it back down, even if just to regain some clarity of thought.

_Are you afraid?_ egged the voice.

No. "Do you honestly think that just the _two_ of you can take me on? Please," he scoffed.

"You will be punished, human whelp!" shouted the first of the creatures.

"We will curse your bloodline to eternal damnation!" concurred the second.

"Is that so? Feh. I'd like to see you try." He glared at them. Where was all this coming from? Was it the voice? No. It felt as though it was a part of him… Before he knew it he had his claws at the ready, charging towards the nearest of the cloaked beings.

The thing squawked with surprise as the steel blades cut into it impossibly far. The hideous light in its eyes almost instantly went out, its body melting into a steaming pile of rot with its death.

The second creature balked and took as hesitant step away from the grinning bounty hunter. "I-impossible!" it stammered. It pinned its red gaze on the man. "Bastard child of wrath! You will receive no chance for repentance--!" Its angry speech was cut short as the triple blades were impaled into its stomach. The boney beast gurgled and clutched at Amarant's arm. It stared up into the man's eyes with nothing but hatred. It searched the forest green depths. A low laugh sounded from its throat. "W… what darkness… is this I see?" it blubbered.

"What of it?" Amarant seethed.

"How could we? To think that such as you would crumble for us." It grinned an unhealthy grin. "It is o-obvious, now; that you are meant for Our Master to rend. May you fall further than the worst of the Enemy." The thing shuddered and pitched forward, decomposing in seconds, leaving nothing behind.

* * *

Steiner clanked about the perimeter of Alexandria, checking the metalwork of the city's only gate. The iron was unharmed, telling him that the entry of the Queen's kidnapper into the urban settlement had not been forced.

There were nine groups of his Knights, with the help of the former General DelaCroix's swordswomen, scouring both within and around the city's limits. He had runners keeping contact between him and the Knights. As of yet, there was very little to report. None of the civilians the Knights had spoken to had claimed to had seen anything out of the ordinary. They were going nowhere fast, and the old Knight was more than a little disconcerted at this; with no evidence, there was no way they would be able to find the Queen and the others.

The bounty hunter hadn't been sighted, either. This didn't matter nearly as much. Whether or not the man actually had intensions to find Queen Garnet when he had left was questionable. After all, he was nothing but a culprit. But like the Knight, he possessed a certain sense of honour. This, he could respect; and as far as he knew, the man had never lied to the monkey Zidane while he had been a part of their questing group. This alone warranted a slight amount of trust in itself, did it not?

He leaned against the brick of the Alexandrian wall, catching his breath to steady the ach in his head. Well, if that bounty hunter _had_ just run off on him, he would have to settle it later. But when he did, he would have that man hunted down and exterminated like vermin, if necessary.

* * *

_--How they squirmed and wriggled--Their Master was waking, and they would greet It, grovel before It in all Its glory--One amongst them writhed hardest, ever eager to please the loving force that they all would soon gaze upon--This one, Strong One, was a cut above the rest; the Master would surely be pleased with its faith, ask it to serve before It--Their Master--The Founder--Long live their Master--Long live The Founder--_


	10. P3: ii

Disclaimers: Zidane and his freak show all belong to Squaresoft and that thing called Enix.

But everything else, including the grey mob and the unhappy butcher, are mine.

Sorry for the late update, folks. I was distracted with holiday stuff... and then everybody caught the flu. Spiftastic! Life is great...

Anyway, since this is so obnoxiously late, all you readers will have two chapters to churn your stmoachs with. Woop! On a slightly more coherent note, does anybody here know how to submit illustrated stories to this site? I heard once that it was possible, but have long since not found anything of the sort. If any of you know whether or not this is true, or how it's done, please, I beg you, tell me!

See you all in two weeks.

* * *

**ii - Carrousel**

They were alone now, but for how long, she didn't dare to guess. It was now or never.

Eiko pulled a bobby pin from her blue hair and swiftly jammed it into the ugly lock of her cage. With a few practiced tweaks, a harsh snap of metal signified success. Pushing the abused door of her cage open she practically flew from its cold embrace. She was free. Now she had to find Vivi and Garnet.

* * *

He could just make out the shape of the dark city. He felt even worse than before; he was rather surprised that he was even still up on his feet. His stomach still ached, and his claws were badly stained from whatever those… creatures had been made of. He was beginning to question just what it was that was really pushing him forward. He felt lost, the infernal buzz billowing about his brain, obscuring everything. 

Was he doing the right thing? It had been so clear, but now he wasn't so sure. He felt as though he was being used somehow, as a chess player would a lowly pawn. But why? For what possible reason was all this happening? Why was he here?

_It hurts…_

He felt the old, oppressive fog returning. It washed over him faster than he could put up his meagre defences.

It was raining in his mind's eye, everything was blurred and unfocussed.

_It hurts so much…_

He fell forward with a painful cry, the dull ach in his stomach exploding to sheer agony without warning.

All he could see was the rain. A horrible stench met his nostrils. He looked over to the source of the smell. There, not a few feet away from him, was a body. It was torn and tattered, with what remained half-drowning in a mixture of water and spilt blood. Amarant felt sick. There was nothing left; maybe a hand at most. Whether it had been man or woman he could not tell.

He began to cough.

His gaze meandered downwards through the rain. His sight rested on his hands. They were red with something that was surely not his.

He was coughing so hard that the ground below him was speckled in wet scarlet. His throat was already raw and more of his own blood was fighting up his windpipe in some sadistic race to the outside. The man tried desperately to calm himself, gripping the baked ground with both hands to keep his body steady. Still the coughs came, laden with more and more fluid cargo with each pass. Within moments a sizable pool had formed on the ground, still growing in size.

_Why did you do it?_ questioned a silent voice.

He shook his head in vain attempts to clear it. This voice was different from the ones that had assaulted his mind before; it was higher, younger... He clutched at his ears in vain attempts to block the new voice away. He couldn't take it any more! What did he ever do to deserve this?

_Why did you do it?_

What, what did he do? Who was doing this?

The pool had grown considerably, flowing outwards from under him by its own power. The tortured man watched it congeal and thicken before him, slowly rising from the ground at the center. The rattling coughs had finally subsided, but his body was still shaking uncontrollably. He tried to push himself away from the puddle as the rising spire fell back into the red mess. Something new shifted within the bloody pool. Was it a… _hand?_ Sputtering like a madman, Amarant scrambled to get away from the wet limb as it was followed by an arm. Soon enough, a small form, maybe not even half his height, had dredged itself from the scarlet pond. An all-too familiar green glare shone from under red soaked tresses, meeting the bounty hunter's gaze with a morbid air of superiority.

It was that child! In a panic now, Amarant scrambled backwards to get away from the thing, backing himself against a rock. "Stay away from me!" he shouted as the spirit started towards him, just as slowly as before. It reached out for him, still completely covered in the man's gore.

_You did this to me…_ accused the child.

"I didn't do anything to you! Who are you?!"

The thing snarled at him in response, its fingers curling against the air. Finally coming, somewhat, to his senses, the bounty hunter hopped to his feet and dashed to his right, hoping to put as much distance between himself and the hideous child as possible.

_You can't hide from me…_

He stopped and looked back. The child ghost was gone. He scanned the barrens about him. Nothing.

Heaving a small sigh of relief, he turned to start for the black city. The child instantly filled his vision. Hissing like an angry snake, the vengeful spirit leapt at him, knocking his already weakened form to the ground. The remaining blood oozed from the youth's ragged clothing, pouring over the man's limbs and swiftly congealing into organic shackles, effectively pinning him to the hard turf. The ghost stared him hatefully in the eye. Amarant tried to free himself from the ground, hardly even able to shift against the ugly binds. The child smirked at him, perched on his chest. "What do you want from me?" he questioned.

The gaunt creature cocked its head to the right. _You know what I want…_ It touched the side of the man's face with a cold hand. _I want what you stole from me…_ The child's nails suddenly dug into the bounty hunter's cheek savagely, making him yelp.

"Gah! I don't have anything of yours!" he defended. "I've never seen you before--"

_Liar…_ It pulled on the pale flesh greedily, as if trying to tear it from the very bone. _You took my skin… I want it back…_

Amarant practically screamed, the sharp nails digging farther and farther. "Let go of me! I don't have your frigging skin!"

_Liar… You took it from me… I saw you do it… You killed me to get it…_

It felt as though his face would tear at any moment. "NAH! Get offa me!" Blood was drawn, dribbling from cold punctures made by the ghost-child's freezing nails.

A flash of light blared in the sky. White feathers of gossamer floated gently to the ground, surrounded by rays of pure white light. The demonic youth looked up at the sky with wild, wide eyes. It grinned unwholesomely, digging its nails deeper into the redhead's flesh.

_They're here…_ it spoke without speaking. _Here to take you… torment you… finish what they started…_

Amarant looked about wildly in his limited field of vision. All he could see was the light.

* * *

_--Hysteria held them all--Master, Master! was the collective call--Their Master, The Founder, was so close--So close, they could touch It--Soon--Soon their power would be made whole with new blood within the Fortress of Ego, the old destroyed--Such was all that mattered to them--They revered The Founder--They lived for The Founder--The Founder was their life--The Founder was their breath--The Founder was all that they were and all that they ever would be--Long live The Founder--_

* * *

It was like a circus tent. Eiko never thought that something so joyous could feel so _evil_. She had been wandering about for several minutes now, and still hadn't found any sign of Vivi or the Queen. The mantle of magic all about her threatened to suffocate the very air in her lungs. So much… Why? Where were they? The answer to this one, crucial question eluded her, and she wasn't sure if she really wanted to know the answer. 

She quickly ducked behind a collection of boxes, hearing the slow approach of multiple pairs of feet. From between the crates she watched and waited as a trio of the masked trampoline artists marched past, still dressed in their red and green formfitting clothing. Under the new light, they almost looked… inhuman. They were disproportionate, slouching slightly as they walked.

The Summoner held her breath as the last of them vanished into some unseen portion of the makeshift tent, removing herself only once she could no longer hear them. She needed to find the others quickly! There was no telling what those… freaks had in store for them, and she had no intensions of sticking around to find out.

* * *

There was only the light. It practically burned. The demonic child sneered at him evilly, making him meet its gaze will a forceful tug on the cheek. 

_Are you afraid?… You should be, murderer…_

The ghost melted away in a flow of red sludge, the shackles that had been keeping the bounty hunter chained to the ground falling away swiftly afterwards. Amarant quickly got to his feet, getting the very clear vibe that whatever was in the light wasn't the least bit friendly. He dashed as fast as his starved body would allow, not daring to look back at the blaring light glowing behind him.

A rush of wind swirled forcefully around him, followed by a brutal shove to his left side. He fell heavily to the ground, oddly winded, as if he had been bowled over by a dragon. He laid there, trying to catch his breath and stop the world from spinning. The light surrounded him.

"_Look at it…"_ came one voice. Amarant lifted his head groggily, trying to figure the source of the new voice.

Another seemed to laugh. "_Was this it?… How sad."_

"_Surely it was more than this thing here. It was a waste to come…"_ added another.

"_Not so, look carefully, brothers, for this is what we had hunted for,"_ said the first voice.

A hand grabbed the back collar of his shirt, dragging him up from the ground, which was no small feat. He tried to regain the barren floor, flailing in the air. The voices, were there four of them? five?, laughed at him mockingly. The voices, crystal clear, were also ringing distant bells. Had he heard them before? He couldn't see the owners of the jeers, the light was just too bright. "Who are you? What do you want?" he shouted desperately, covering his stinging eyes.

"_Look at it wail like an animal, it has lost what we need. I say we kill it,"_ sneered one being hidden within the light.

"_It's a decoy, perhaps? Let's take it with us, and torture it until it tells us where the real one is,"_ suggested the second voice.

"_Feh, it is only another Damned. Let it suffer here,"_ said the third. The unseen owner of the voice took hold of the panicked bounty hunter. "_Let's drop it into the Kitchens, and let the Chefs take it. I'm sure they could make quite a pie with its bulk_."

The other voices laughed at this suggestion. Amarant writhed in the air. Chefs?

One of the blinding beings lifted what seemed to be a foot and drove it into the ground. A loud crash sounded as the leg punched through the barren earth, opening a huge chasm under several feet of dead dirt. His current captor held the bounty hunter threateningly over the pit. "_Happy trails, freak_."

He was dropped. The redhead fell silently through the darkness, unable to even cry out. He looked up as he plummeted, catching only briefly the sight of four fair faces swathed in light, staring down upon him coldly with black eyes before vanishing from sight.

He was completely unprepared for the rapidly approaching earth. He hit the unseen ground head first. The darkness that followed was as black as the cavern itself.

* * *

Vivi was feeling nauseous, and his arm was frozen in pain. He fought to keep what little remained in his stomach, the pain was so great. The creature, Kaada, was gone, as well as its two servants. It had left him here, and taken Eiko and Garnet elsewhere. 

There was no way for him to escape. He couldn't concentrate on any spells with the pain tearing up his arm. Not that he would want to hazard using magic here. There was so much to be drawn upon, too much. It was dangerous, and he didn't need to be told that to tell. He was well-versed enough that he could cast most of his spells without his staff, but not very well. And with a concentration of magicks this thick all around him, there was too much of a chance for it all to overblow and backfire terribly, which would not end well.

So he sat quietly. What was he to do? He could do nothing to free himself, let alone his friends. And what did that thing from the circus want with them? He didn't like the way Xio had told that Kadda character to 'do what it would' with them. It entailed a bit too much for the imagination than he was comfortable with.

His holding cell had been placed in a grossly decorated room within the tent that Kadda must call a home. Transparent weaves of silk in every colour imaginable hung from every available surface. Macabre masks of clay and gloss were nestled between the long scarves, staring out in all directions with morbid expressions of badly placed mirth and joy. Boxes surrounded him on all sides, denying him any view beyond his cage.

Footsteps sounded lightly just out of his field of vision. He sat still, hoping that whatever was there wouldn't hear his trembles.

"Vivi?" came a soft voice.

He blinked. "E-Eiko?" he called out quietly. "I-is that you?"

The little Summoner quickly wove around the obscuring crates to stand before the jailed mage. "Oh, Vivi! I thought I'd never find you!" She immediately jammed her bobby pin into the lock of the black mage's cell, forcing it to open in mere seconds.

Vivi, holding his injured arm carefully, hopped out of the ugly prison, happy to be free of the oppressive hopelessness it enforced. "Thanks," he told the girl. "I was w-worried. I didn't know where K-Kadda had taken you…"

"Who?" questioned Eiko.

"The t-tall purple thing that brought us here. Its n-name is Kadda," clarified the mage.

"Huh. Weird name," she said simply, looking out from between the boxes to the area beyond. "I think it's all clear. Let's go and find Dagger." She grabbed Vivi by the arm to drag him along.

The young magic user cried out as she took hold of his injured wrist, the pain bringing fresh tears to his burning eyes. "Ow ow! Eiko, let go!" he shouted helplessly.

The horned girl released him in surprise. "Wha? Shh! Don't yell, or we'll get caught!" she hissed. She looked at him carefully. "What happened?"

"M-my a-arm," he snivelled. "I-it h-hurts a lot. I banged it w-when we w-were com-coming down the p-pit, and-and now it w-won't s-stop…" He sniffed miserably. He knew that Eiko didn't like it when he cried, but he couldn't help it. It hurt so much… On top of that, he wanted nothing more than to go home, back to the Black Mage Village, where he could sleep peacefully and without care. Why was he here? Why was all this happening to him? He just wanted to wake up from this nightmare and see the sun shining through his window.

Eiko never liked it when the black mage would start crying, but she already knew that this wasn't the place to be telling him to suck it up. Truth be told, she felt like letting loose a few tears right now, but she wouldn't. She wouldn't let herself. She was in charge. And she had to be strong to lead Vivi and Garnet to safety, leaders didn't cry. After all, she had never seen Zidane cry. "I'm sorry, Vivi," she said to him. "But we have to get going, or we'll never get out of here. We have to find Garnet, she'll know what to do!"

Vivi nodded weakly, stifling his whimpers and wiping away his tears. He would try to be strong, like Eiko. He had to.

The blue haired youth took another careful look about the tent, hearing and seeing nothing. She stayed at her post for a few seconds longer, making absolutely sure that nothing would be coming their way, thanks to Vivi's crying. With the coast seemingly clear, she motioned silently to the black mage, darting out from behind the assembled crates and discarded cages with ease.

Vivi followed behind her clumsily, his balance thrown off because of his injured arm. He kept as close to her as he could, not daring to say a single word. The two of them wove out from the room, making for the right tarp corridors. Eiko kept a close ear out for anything that would signal trouble, keeping close to the shadows to allow for easy hiding. She hadn't lost any of her sneaking flare since becoming a princess in the Fabool house, and she had no intension of ever letting it die away now.

With the grinning faces of clay and paint watching their every move they bobbed and weaved through countless tarp chambers, with no clue as to the whereabouts of the Alexandrian ruler. Eiko stopped, slowly growing frustrated with their lack of progress. Vivi kept quiet behind her, appointing himself as look-out.

Where could they have taken her? The little Summoner was pining for a clue, but no such luck was gracing her. She thought hard, trying to recall the way that juggler had taken her through the tent. If she could only retrace those steps, she felt as though they would have a much better chance at finding the Queen, and their way out. She felt a tap on her shoulder. "S-someone's coming," the black mage informed her partner urgently.

Thinking quickly, she guided Vivi over to a heavily shadowed pile of crates and cages and hid behind them, peering out from between the crevasses that separated them to see just what was coming. They waited. Soon enough, heavy, laboured breathing floated down from where they had come, growing steadily louder. Metallic footsteps quickly accompanied them. Both children began to shiver as the silhouette of Barbos came into view. Huffing and snarling angrily, the gaunt creature wove through the messy room at a leisurely pace, though it was clear that it was far from at peace. Its scarlet eyes blared from dark sockets like hellish beacons, reflecting noting but torment. It stopped in the centre of the room, standing quite still. What little remained of its nose quivered in the stale air. The beast lifted its face, making soft, snorting noises.

Eiko and Vivi held their breaths as the thing continued to sniff the air, swinging its torso from side to side. The murderous monster growled low, taking slow, incredibly silent steps about the stacked crates of wood and metal, headed in their direction.

Eiko couldn't even begin to guess how sharp Barbos' hearing was, but by no means was she going to stay in one place. She took a firm hold of Vivi's uninjured right arm, slowly guiding him backwards. Their shoes made hardly a crunch on the dry floor, but the thing was still making for their last hiding place. It made a low growl as it reached the boxes shielding the children from view. The Summoner and the black mage quickly dove to the side as it swung its arm in a fierce arc, knocking the assembled cages and crates in every direction. It glared at the empty space that greeted it. But it wasn't finished yet. It sniffed at the air a second time, moving into the small clearing the youths had been squatting in just a moment before.

She was starting to sweat, and Vivi was already shivering like a snowman in a blizzard. That freak was coming straight for them, and there weren't very many places to hide. If they weren't careful, Barbos would see them, and she had no doubts that it would have no qualms with skewering them on the spot. Thinking quickly, she ushered her friend to the side, moving in the opposite direction of their hunter. The creature froze. The children followed suite, barely breathing.

Barbos swung its mutilated head to one side, looking over the tarp room with an ugly eye.

The Summoner looked about frantically for any means of escape. There were only two ways into the cloth chamber, and both were out in the open. The hideous thing made an irritated roar, restarting its hunt.

A large, upturned wooden box caught her eye. With nowhere to go and all other options thinning, Eiko quickly, and quietly, scrambled for the crate, taking Vivi forcefully with her. They huddled under the lid, bringing it down over their heads in hopes of shelter as Barbos stepped into their field of view.

The thing looked questioningly over the room. Ooze dribbled from its missing jaw in long threads. It had heard something. It headed for a tall collection of crates, going in long, silent strides.

The children watched fearfully as the beast closed in on their position. A sudden smell of decay washed over them, making them both put a protective hand over their mouths. The reek made their eyes water. Through wet vision Vivi could see the ugly thing standing just outside the box. Its bladed fingers dragged on the ground, caked in old gore. The empty cavity of its stomach glared out from behind yellowing bones and aging flesh. The sight of it made the young mage's stomach turn. It looked at though it was in constant pain. Vivi almost felt sorry for it.

It pinned its red glare on the mountain of cages and boxes. Something was out of place in this room, and it was going to find out what it was. With another swing of its arm it sent most of the crates rolling about the floor. It scrutinised the new space, still not finding anything. There was something here, it knew so. Getting angry, it raised a clawed limb and brought it mercilessly down upon a small group of crates resting before it. The hollow cubes of wood flew into a thousand splinters with the blow, revealing to it their contents. Nothing.

The thing roared above them, nearly making them jump. They kept quiet as Barbos took its anger out on another group of cages, sending bits and pieces of metal and wood flying in all directions. The boxes beside them were swiftly reduced to fagot wood. The monster stood directly above them, hissing venomously. It raised its claws again. When it fell, it would be over.

The children closed their eyes.

"Barbos!"

The creature froze perfectly, glaring over its shoulder to who spoke. The twisted being, Kadda, stood in the back entrance.

"Barbos, yyyou iiimmmbecccile! Fffor what rrreassson do yyyou defffile my houssse?" it shouted, in a hiss, at the thing. It stalked up to the mutilated creature, its anger more than apparent. The red highlights on its violet skin glittered menacingly as it closed in on the beast. The teeth of its half-grin half-frown face rattled and chattered. Kadda swung its arm faster than a blink of an eye, landing a vicious strike to the side of Barbos' head. The monster doubled over from the strike, releasing a low moan of pain. "Ssstupid beassst!" it swore, hitting it again hard enough to bring it to its knees. It continued to strike at the thing. "Wwwhyyy Xxxio insssissstsss on keeping yyyou eludesss me! The Mmmassster ssshould have dessstroyed yyyou when yyyou fell from graccce!" It stopped in its assault, leaving Barbos to shiver on the floor. "Though I guesss I can rrrelate." Kadda stared down at the creature. "Get out. Go and sssulk in sssome ssshadow in the offal pitsss!"

Barbos slugged back onto its footless legs. With a hiss at the shredded boxes it had created, it slinked out of sight. Kadda watched it leave, its misshapen face twitching in lingering aggravation.

Eiko and Vivi watched and waited. The purple creature remained where it was, growling to itself. The crooked horns spanning from its jaw undulated in the air slightly, curling about themselves before going back to a neutral stance. It ran a careful gaze about the trashed room, taking it all in. Its yellow eyes fell on the collection of boxes where the two children lay hidden. It kicked at a small group of them, turning them over to see what was inside that had driven Barbos so mad. The boxes were empty. With a disgusted snort, it creature turned on its heel and left.

The two mages remained as still as stone. All the crates around them were either upturned or destroyed. They felt blessedly lucky indeed.

* * *

The floor was wet with something thick and rank. 

It was the reek that finally brought him back to his senses. His head hurt like Hell and the rest of him was just screaming bloody murder. He twitched on the ground with a low groan of pain. At least it seemed nothing was broken.

Things, to say the least, were getting stranger by the minute. First demonic clones, then wise-ass rot-bags, and now crazy light-beings. And to make it all worse, they all knew something he didn't about himself. Sooner or later, it was going to drive him absolutely crazy. He'd go insane, and then it wouldn't matter what happened to him, because no-one ever takes notice of a crazy person. His already dismal social life would be reduced to a pathetic ritual of people smiling, nodding, and then backing away in hopes of not catching his insanity.

He rolled over and sat up, looking disgustedly at the gunk that now coated his only set of clothing. It was like some kind of mucus. He wished he could see, the smothering shadows prevented him from discerning anything farther than a few feet from his nose. He batted at his clothing absently, trying to dislodge the sludge while his head slowly cleared from the fall.

Those… things, had mentioned some kind of… kitchen? This didn't look like a kitchen to him.

Something sounded from beyond his field of vision. It was like a collective of hisses. It steadily rose in volume all around him. He looked around frantically, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound. He stood up slowly. Tiny pinpricks of reflected light shone in the darkness fleetingly in rapid succession, telling the bounty hunter that he was very much surrounded. But by what?

The hissing continued to grow, forming into a calculated, rhythmic pulsation of noise. It was like a chant.

"…_tss…re…ss…ret…sssm…t…re…_"

It sent a cold sliver spearing down his spine. The hum in his brain rose in volume impossibly.

"_m…retsss… a…rets…am…ret…_"

Amarant was quickly loosing what little remained of his nerve. Through the nearly impregnable gloom he could see hundreds of bodies closing in on him, beady eyes twinkling in the non-existent light. He span around in fevered attempts to find some point of escape. They were so close. The innumerable forms were reaching for him with grey fingers, pushing against one another to get closer. "Go away!" he shouted desperately, in no frame of mind to use the weapons he possessed. The closer they came, the better he could see them.

They were nearly featureless, oddly smooth. Their skins were a dead grey. Each one was different, possessing some kind of… mutation, almost. Some had deformed skin that wrapped their arms against their bodies, others had only one eye on the sides of their faces. All of them, however, had mouths crammed with countless needle sharp teeth.

They reached for him, hundreds of slender grey hands grasping at his clothing, gently tugging at him in every direction. They hadn't attempted to attack him yet, but he wasn't going to stick around to give them the opportunity. But he had to break away carefully. The hideous things seemed to almost be _fascinated_ with him. He was already completely surrounded, and if he gave the wrong incentive too soon, he was sure that the creatures, whatever they were, would have no problems with tearing him to tiny pieces. The ominous chant continued, "_..tsssa…re…ret…ss…am…_" One in particular was shoving its way to the front, putting out a four fingered hand to grab his arm. The light touch of the cold, clammy hand finally snapped his remaining nerve. With a small shriek the redhead tore from the mass of hissing, chanting forms with no regard to his previous thoughts of caution. As he dashed and pushed through the hunched and crawling bodies, a terrible, angry hiss rose from the collective.

The feathery sound of bare footsteps and hands breaking against the slime coated floor told him quite clearly that the creatures had given chase. Those he was still trying to get past were grabbing and clawing at him, trying to pull him down. The ones he had left behind were scrambling over one another frantically in hopes of catching up.

"…_sssam…re…t…m…re…tsam…ret…s…_"

He ran blindly, literally, through the tunnel, not knowing where he was headed. The darkness was so thick it hurt his eyes. Never before had he encountered such an oppressive blanket of hopelessness, it made him feel disgustingly weak. He wanted to see light. Any light.

He ran smack into something hard. He fell bodily to the slick floor, recoating himself in the sick mucus that had collected there like some stagnant river. He could hear the creatures near with every breath.

The bounty hunter quickly got back onto his feet. Even with his trained sight, he was utterly blind. What did he hit? He felt the blockade with both hands frantically. A wall. He had hit a dead end. He let out a strangled whimper as he hunted for an exit. A crack, a crevasse, a ledge… anything.

The mass of grey bodies slowed their chase, closing in on the distraught man slowly.

Amarant was at a total loss. On top of that, he felt like he was going to finally break down into tears for the first time in twenty years. There was no way out. No escape route. The Flaming Amarant had met his match at long last. The army of nameless things neared continuously. This was not the end for which he had hoped.

They reached out for him, still hissing and chanting.

An ominous crack of stone tore through the layered chants. The assembled beings looked around at the floor, momentarily disoriented. The ground lurched slightly.

The giant gasped lightly as the floor gave way beneath his feet, sending him and a fair number of the grey creatures hurtling downwards.

The feeling of free-fall was never one he enjoyed. It generally entailed a very painful, if not grisly, landing at the bottom.

A red, foreboding light began to form far below him and the creatures, slowly growing in size and intensity. As he fell, Amarant could discern industrial pipes and huge, organic veins interweaving and bridging between the rocks surrounding him and his harassers. One by one the grey, hissing creatures were picked off by the pipes, crashing bodily into the metal in a small flash of yellow gore and wet crunching noises.

He could see the bottom. A exceptionally thick vein jutted out from the rocky walls. The bounty hunter clenched his fist and stuck out his armed hand, digging his claws deep into the pulsating material. Red fluid gushed from the triple scores he left behind, replacing the thick muck from above with an ugly scarlet paint job all over his shirt and pants. Little by little, his descent slowed. He hit the bottom feet first, wet and not at all happy or stable mind-wise. He merely stood there and took in several greedy lungfulls of air, trying desperately to calm his raging nerves back into their usual steely setting.

Now where was he?

It was considerably warmer than it had been above. It felt almost like an oven. "Wait a minute…" he said to himself. _Let's drop it into the kitchens…_ He instantly regretted the last notion. Why was this happening to him? What on Gaia did he do to deserve this? He'd never find the others, or his answers, at this rate. He had to pull himself back together.

Alright. So he had fallen. If he wanted to accomplish anything, he had to get back up to the surface.

He looked upwards. The hole he had plummeted through was lost to the shadows high above, hidden behind alien veins and tarnishing pipes. He wasn't too keen on climbing back up that way, not with those freakish things waiting up there for him at any rate. Maybe he could find a different way up, straight back to the surface.

The eerie hiss floated down from above, hitting his ears with a clarity he would rather do without. Those things weren't still following him, were they? Not really wanting to find out, he looked for a swift exit. The back was blocked by a steep wall. The cavern ahead of him, the source of the foreboding light he had seen from above, was wide open, but far from inviting. Figuring he didn't have much choice, Amarant started forwards, keeping a light jog.

The faint chant swiftly faded away behind him.

In its place, however, rose a hideous heat. In seconds he was sweating like a pig, the red stuff already dried and caked to his clothes and skin. It was ranking to be one of the more unpleasant things he ever had to endure. The heat continued to rise. The ground was wavering like water it was so hot. Some of the rocks were even _hissing_. He stopped uncertainly, unsure of whether or not this was a good direction to go after all. He gave a brief glance behind his shoulder. Well, it was either that or going back to those things he had just escaped. With too few alternatives coming to mind, he reluctantly restarted his trek into the ugly light.

It wasn't long before he was feeling like a fish out of water. Literally. He felt as though he had lost at least fifteen pounds he was sweating so much. His hair had gone _flat_, which didn't please him in the slightest. The red stuff, whatever it was, had rewetted thanks to the heat and sweat, and was streaking down the length of his body like some venerable disease. It made him sick, but he was far from in the mood to do anything about it. He had lost track of how far he had gone down this horrid tunnel. The pipes were becoming more frequent, and the ugly veins were pulsing harder between them the further he went. The effect was nothing short of revolting. He found himself wishing that he was back in the pitiful example of humanity known as Treno he called home.

He trudged forward.

A new sound rose amongst the hisses of heat all around him. At first, it was so surreal that he swore his melting brain was playing tricks on him. Screams. They were faint, wrought with fear and agony unlike anything he had ever heard before. His already wavering resolve took a small dive and he stopped dead in the tunnel. Man, what the Hell could he do now? The shouts were anything but encouraging and his constitution had seen better days. _But just what choice do I have?_ he questioned himself. For once, he wished that he wasn't so blunt with himself. The longer he stood there, the more of a chance he would never get out or even hope to rescue those idiots who claimed themselves to be his friends.

His feet restarted the heavy march of their own accord, but the man wasn't in any frame of mind to do anything to the contrary, no matter how much he was starting to want to. The screams and cries became steadily louder, clearer. Amongst them, was a repeating, sharp sound of something hard striking against something not nearly as sturdy, and cutting into it. White mist, borne from what he couldn't fathom, billowed out from ahead of him, obscuring his field of sight. His caution rising, and his skin crawling at five miles an hour, he kept his steady gait forwards.

After several steps the ground seemed to change. The rough rock was replaced by hollow grilled metal and a distinct smell of bad meat rose up from every direction. It made his stomach turn. The screams died away suddenly and the chopping noises were replaced by a constant sob, sorrowful and utterly devoid of hope. He slowed his pace, unsure of what to make of the sudden change. The sound paused, leaving an empty void of silence within the white cloud of hot fog. He stopped momentarily, straining for any sound.

Nothing.

Swallowing, he restarted his wavering trek, reaching out in all directions with every sense he had at his disposal. He kept a hand on the rock wall to keep from getting lost, the smoke, or fog, or whatever it was, was so thick. Soon, the wall, too, gave way from rock to metal, hot metal. With a short gasp he pulled his hand away, shaking his fingers to cool them. He bit his tongue to keep from cursing a blue streak. The soft sob sounded again, much closer now. A little _too_ close, almost as if they were coming from hardly a few feet away. He stood very still, unsure of what to make of the noise. The white, hissing, odourless smoke cleared briefly, revealing to the bounty hunter the source of the horrible sounds. A chamber wrought of vile looking metal surrounded him on all sides, pipes leaking the superheated mist jutted out everywhere. Blotches of red, gross stains spotted the grillwork, dark and lumpy in some places, leaving nearly no inch of metal untouched. He slowed to a complete stop, looking about in fascinated horror at what lined the unclean walls to his right.

Knives. Huge knives hung from every available space, caked with dirty veins of gore and Gods knew what else. They were so large that even he would have a difficult time wielding one of those monster chef's blades. Were they the collection of some kind of homicidal giant? He peered at the blades carefully from where he stood. The handles were comparatively tiny, as if meant to be held by a hand not too much larger than a human's. But no human being could possibly even lift such an instrument! He tried to count just how many there were, but quickly lost where he was thanks to the infernal heat. He noticed that there was a bare space amongst the blades, as if one of their number was missing.

The sad sobbing started again. He turned his attention to the centre of the room, where a single, wooden table stood. The construction was taller then most other such furniture he had seen, as if built for someone a few feet taller than the norm. Dark scarlet streaks wound about its surface.

Something glistening and wet was piled upon its surface. The sobs were coming from whatever was sitting there. Unable to advert his attention, he took a few tentative steps towards the ugly table. What he saw from under his sweaty curtains of red hair made him sick. Bits and pieces of what appeared to be human flesh were sprawled about the wood's surface, sweating and bleeding profusely. The blocks of bloodied flesh looked as though they had been cut by something very sharp but far from smooth, the exposed innards bubbling and boiling in tatters on the heated wood. He couldn't look away from the sight. Had this been… a man or a woman? He could not tell…

"Help me…" came the sob.

Amarant looked about feverishly for the source of voice.

"Please… Help me!"

He angled his vision back at the table. Pieces of what had been a face laid at the one end of the table, broken like a shattered mirror. A blue eye set within a lone hunk of flesh and bone stared back at him. He made a slight face. The eye _blinked_ back. "What the--?" he yelped, cringing.

"Help me! Please!" cried the corpse, voicing its plea from the broken mouth sitting not too far from the eye. "Its coming back! Help me! Before it puts me in that oven! Please, dammit, I'm begging you! Help me!"

If his stomach hadn't been so empty, he would have lost his lunch. Who could have done this? What kind of monster--

A loud metallic bang sounded from the other side of the iron chamber. The sweaty redhead looked up, eyes wide. A creature, at least seven feet tall and wearing nothing but a meat-cutter's bloodstained smock, stood amongst the white mist. Its head was long and wedge shaped, the tip of its pointed nose reaching past its chest. A small mouth crammed with shark's teeth opened in a fierce snarl as it pinned the bounty hunter with an angry glare with its beady black eyes. It huffed and roared up at the unseen ceiling, shaking its head. Spittle flew from its mouth, its gore encrusted ponytail waving wickedly behind it. It brandished a huge, bloody, deadly looking butcher's knife in its right hand, the missing member of the collection of blades from the wall. The beast ended its cry, bringing the massive knife down hard upon the grilled floor. Sparks flew, but the blade was unharmed. It pointed at him with an oddly dainty hand, hissing threateningly.

"You're gonna suffer, man…" said the mouth of the butchered man. "It's gonna catch you and make you into a roast… But you won't die! No!" he shouted hysterically. "You'll be alive for it all! The chopping! The baking! The _eating!_ And then it starts _all over again_."

The redhead moved away from the table in slow, backwards steps, his mind swimming in painful loops. What was this? What was this place? What was that thing?

The giant chef roared at him, starting for his shaking form, dragging the massive knife behind it.

For the first time in his life, Amarant was frozen in place. His legs were like lead and in his veins were flows of ice. All he could do was stare as thing came closer, growling at him savagely. "Why aren't you _running?_," cried the mass of body parts. "Run, you idiot! Get away!"

"_Uoy nac nur tub uoy t'nac edih,"_ said a deep voice from the depths of the beast's oddly thin chest. The redhead squinted at it. What gibberish was this? Wait… not gibberish… The words rearranged themselves inside his mind, making perfect sense. _"You can run but you can't hide."_ The beast grinned at him, hefting its huge blade from the ground effortlessly with a single hand. Still the man didn't move, the only thing between him and the beast was the bloody table littered with living pieces of human flesh, and it wasn't helping at all. _"Ekam a enif eip, ouy lliw, dlihc fo Oge. // Make a fine pie, you will, child of Ego!"_ The knife came down, it was so long its blade easily overshot the width of the pathetic table by well over a foot.

At the very last moment, the bounty hunter broke free of the paralysis that was fear, staggering backwards as the knife came down on the wooden of the table and the hunks of tortured flesh that laid there. The force of the blow sent strings of gore flying in all directions. The ruined body of whatever had been on the table before screamed in sheer agony as any parts of his that had fallen in the blade's line of butchery were cleaved cleanly into yet more pieces.

The monster chef wrenched the knife free from the table with but a quick tweak of its wrist, glaring at the redhead with nothing but hatred. Amarant was sure that he wouldn't stand a chance against this thing if he tried to run, not with the incredible reach that weapon provided, but he sure as Hell couldn't stay! The thing moved slightly to the side of the table. Unable to think of anything else to keep the thing at bay, he mirrored the movement, but in the opposite direction, keeping a constant distance between himself and the demonic cook.

The two began to circle the table, each following the other's movements closely. The bloody body on the table whimpered and whined between them, detached fingers twitching in pain. The bounty hunter cringed at the noises. The giant chuckled.

"What are you?" the man questioned the thing, unable to help himself. "What kind of monster does this to a human being?"

The thing laughed at him. _"I ma eht Fehc fo Ynottulg, eno fo tub ynam. // I am the Chef of Gluttony, one of but many. // Eht Lufnis ytliug fo Ssecxe era tnes ot em, ot eb tuc dna derehctub rof eht snevo fo eht Tsekrad Drol litnu rieht sluos ers erup. // The Sinful guilty of Excess are sent to me, to be cut and butchered for the ovens of the Darkest Lord until their souls are pure."_

He didn't know what was more disturbing, that fact that he could understand the thing, or the fact that it seemed to take so much _joy_ in its occupation. "There's more of you, huh?" he commented simply, trying to stall for a plan of escape as the two of them wound about the table.

"You can understand it?" cried the body incredulously from the messy table.

"_Sey. // Yes. // Ynam, ynam erom. // Many, many more. // Yraniluc rorroh si ruo esoprup, ot evres ot gnirw eht deerg fo daerb dna eniw morf eht sluos fo eht erupmi. // Culinary horror is our purpose, to serve to wring the greed of bread and wine from the souls of the impure."_ The monster watched him carefully, matching his every move.

"Ever stop to think that maybe what you're doing is just sick and wrong?" he interrogated.

"How… how can you understand it?" screamed the body. "It's nothing but mad gibberish! Mad! It drives us all crazy! How can you understand it?"

"_Gnorw_? _// Wrong?"_ questioned the Chef in reply. _"Ti saw reven ruo ot ekam. // It was never our choice to make. // Hcus si ton deerced by neve eht Tsekrad Drol. // Such is not decreed by even the Darkest Lord."_

"What do you mean by that?" the bounty hunter inquired, growing suspicious.

"You're not human ,are you?" shrieked the corpse. "You're not human! Devil! Demon! Beast!"

The Chef sneered at him. _"Yhw hcus snoitseuq, plehw_? _// Why such questions, whelp_? _// Eno chus sa uoy yalp eht emas emag sa su. // One such as you play the same game as us."_ It narrowed its beady eyes dangerously. _"Neve os, ruoy dnik era ton emoclew ereh. // Even so, your kind are not welcome here. // Sseldrager fo tahw rewop uoy yam dleiw no eht Level evoba, uoy era gnihton tub a ressapsert ot em. // Regardless of what power you may wield on the Level above, you are nothing but a trespasser to me. // Sredurtni ekil flesruoy era tsuj sa enif ni a trat sa yna namuh luos. // Intruders like yourself are just as fine in a tart as any human soul!"_ The knife came up and crashed back down in the blink of an eye, just skimming the bounty hunter's nose, leaving a slight cut in its wake.

Amarant stumbled backwards, falling to the hot metal floor.

The bloody cutlets of the human body were still screaming. "You're not human! You're one of them, aren't you? You're one of the devils that make our lives miserable! Bastard! Demon!"

He wished the corpse would shut up.

The Chef roared. _"Uoy t'nac loof em htiw ruoy suoip esiugsid, kaerf fo Edirp. // You can't fool me with your pious disguise, freak of Pride. // Ruoy nepahssim senob lliw nroda ym sllaw. // Your misshapen bones will adorn my walls!"_ It lunged at him, cleaver held high, clearing the table easily.

The sweaty redhead rolled out of the way as the blade came down, mind whirling in a thousand directions. He immediately leapt to his feet, running for the nearest exit… not entirely realising that he was headed the same way he had come in. The Chef screamed and gave chase, brandishing its monster blade. Its hideous waist-length ponytail flew from behind it, matted clumps trailing a reek of death as it wove in the wind of the beast's movement.

He ran blindly into the white smoke, straining for freedom. He didn't want to die! The white fog cleared, revealing rock in the place of metal. What? He found himself questioning his location…

The same dead end that had greeted him before was looming before him yet again. He skidded to a halt, green eyes wide in disbelief. Was he so stupid as to go back the way he had just came from? He whirled around. The Chef, grinning with bloody lips, advanced on him slowly, letting its knife drag on the ground for added effect. The redhead merely stared, at a total loss of what to do to save his skin now. What could he do? Pray? Beg? Scream?

Multiple soft thumps sounded behind him, followed by a low hiss wrought of several voices. The giant butcher before him stopped in its tracks, lips curling in hatred. Amarant remained plastered to where he stood, recognising the horrible, hissing chant that softly rose from behind him.

"…_Rrrettsss…aammm…Rrreess…tttsssaaa…mmm…_"

Thin fingers brushed up against his legs, grasping carefully at the stained material.

The bounty hunter was at the end of his rope. Before him stood a murderous, wedge-headed beast that made people into pies, and behind him was a mass of ugly grey bodies bent on smothering him. They would both kill him, he was sure. This was the end.

"_Ruoy yhtlif sedarmoc t'now pleh uoy, plehw_! _// Your filthy comrades won't help you, whelp!"_ The Chef roared and charged at him, swinging its cleaver.

He stumbled backwards. The knife caught him in the shoulder, digging deep with a serrated cut. He let out a pained shout, falling against the rocky walls. The giant rose its blade for another swing.

Then, the most confusing thing happened.

The mass of grey things, countless in number already, swarmed past him, hissing loudly. They converged on the inhuman Chef, grabbing and tearing at its bloody smock. The thing howled obscenely, forgetting about the redhead and reverting its attention to hack at the featureless forms. Yellow gore flew in every direction as the comparatively small bodies of the grey beings were cut to mincemeat. But they just kept coming, infinite numbers of them, falling from the dark hole high above to scramble to join the fight, hissing and spitting.

Anything but confident, Amarant began to shuffle back down the tunnel, wanting nothing more than to get away from the two warring forces. He had to get out of here, to get back to the ground above. He had to find the others, get their help, and escape from this nightmarish place.

Despite its sheer killer talent with the oversized cleaver, the seven foot Chef was steadily loosing ground against the infinite waves of whatever the little freaks were. They hissed and clawed at it, opening their mouths wide to expose countless rows of needle sharp teeth. One by one they began to bite and tear at the monster's flesh, taking impossibly large mouthfuls of its skin for the small size of their jaws. The Chef screamed in agony, increasing its attacks tenfold. The bounty hunter, fraught with rapidly mounting delirium birthed from either fear or heat, stopped to see the sudden rise in commotion. One of the grey things, the especially large one that had shoved its way towards him in the rank pit above, crawled up the Chef's back. With a resounding hiss it bit the thing in the neck, drawing a fair amount of dark, nearly black blood. The giant shrieked and threw the beast from its shoulders. It hit the wall, falling to the ground with an ominous crunch of bone.

But slowly, steadily, it got back to its feet. Amarant watched in horror as its shape began to change, becoming buff and twice as tall as it was before. Soon, in place of the grey blob of skin and bone, stood a perfect replica of the bloody Chef, smock and all. The only thing it didn't have was the knife. But it was about to fix that. Lunging at the real Chef, it knocked the monster over, wrenching the beastly cleaver from its small hand with its own dainty pair. With a guttural roar it rose the blade high. The giant rose its arms in feeble defence, bleeding from countless wounds. The changed beast hissed and brought the blade down mercilessly upon its opponent. In a sickening spray, the neck of the Chef was severed, ending its life instantaneously.

The victorious fraud Chef stood up and roared in the Chef's voice, holding the weapon up high.

Amarant, eyes wide, slowly shifted away, hoping to remain unseen. Unfortunately for him, the beady eyes of the fake Chef, and countless yellow others from the grey beings, instantly turned to him. The hiss rose again, matching the frequency of the infernal hum that still rattled in his brain. "_…Rrreetttssaammm… Rreettssaamm…_" The chant resounded against the rocky walls, the Chef's ethereal boom reverberating amongst them.

"No…" wheezed the redhead, edging away. The things, with the new Chef leading them, started after him, slowly, still chanting. "No!" He got up and ran, his shoulder still bleeding and stinging sharply.

With a short huff the giant monster gave chase, the blade dragging characteristically behind it, sending sparks into the air. "_Rreettssaamm… Rreettssaamm…_" it hissed as it ran.

"No!" he shouted desperately. "Leave me alone!"

The Chef slowly increased its speed, gaining on him.

"NO!" He felt helpless. So, utterly, helpless. It was something he was far from familiar with, and he hated it. He continued to run, trying for dear life to get away from the creature that had taken the Chef's place.

He shot down the tunnel as fast as his long legs would carry him. He ploughed through the white smoke, back into the horrible kitchen. The broken body was still on the table, shouting at him, accusing him of things he didn't want to hear. The fake Chef thundered after him, chanting and hissing. Amarant didn't slow his dash for freedom, disappearing into another wall of superheated mist that he hoped didn't lead to another dead end once he broke into the other side.

A corridor of industrial metal came into view, spanning far ahead of him. Moans and shouts sounded from behind the barred walls of the walkway, revealing that the walls were nothing but immobile cages stocked high with sentient beings of all kinds, sweaty and naked. They howled and screamed as he ran past, reaching out from their prisons to grasp at what little human comfort this stranger could provide. Shouts and pleas for freedom rang from every direction, making his head spin. But he couldn't stop. The Chef was hot on his heels, making the trapped folk, human and otherwise, wail and shriek with unbridled fear. He kept running.

The end was in sight. Thick pipes of iron jutted from the walls like a barrier of spider's thread, blocking a metal-less expanse of rock reaching farther down. Another dead end, there was no way he would be able to get past those pipes! He would have screamed, but he was too out of breath. He continued to run for the wall, hoping that some other passage would turn up amongst the plumes of mist and smoke. Nothing came. With only one alternative other than waiting for death coming to mind, he threw himself at the pipes, hoping to whatever was listening that luck would pay him a long-overdue visit. By some freak flip of Fate's coin, the man found what he needed, somehow squeezing between the bent and bolted forms to the empty space beyond. Stopping momentarily, he grabbed at the pipes, pulling on them roughly. The pipes, despite their strength, warped under his hand, slowly blocking off the tunnel's extension. The clone Chef stopped before the bent pipes, huffing.

Amarant waited, taking backwards steps as he observed the thing from the hopeful safety of the other side of the leaky pipes. The fake murderous Chef kept the giant knife still on the ground, testing the pipes in an almost forlorn manner. It reached past the metal to the earthy space beyond, dainty hand stretching for the sweating form of the redhead. "_Rrreeetttsssaaammm…_" it chanted slowly, sounding defeated. It continued to reach for him feebly, grasping at the air. In some misplaced twitch of his hardened heart, he almost felt sorry for the thing.

His pity was swiftly put back into its place as the creature pulled its hand away and hefted the knife high, bringing it down hard on the old pipes. Several of them snapped and shattered, mist and smoke pouring from the ruptured veins of metal.

Getting his wits back, the bounty hunter made a fourth break for freedom, shooting down the cavern now open to him. Hisses of annoyance sounded from behind him as the new Chef wrenched and pulled at the obstructing pipes.

The tunnel wound and weaved in so many directions that the redhead swiftly lost all sense of east and west. He came to a final stop as he hit the tunnel's end. Nothing but rock stood before him. That, and a pile of something sick and incredibly foul smelling. He covered his nose with a hand. Whatever it was, it was wet and simply disgusting. There was a moist splat as more of the detritus hurtled from above to smack into the pile. Blinking, the man looked up. What stared back at him was his exit. A hole, huge in size, reached up from the ceiling, leading, he hoped, out. That hideous Chef wouldn't be able to follow him up that thing, he was sure. Wasting no time, he shuffled over to the far wall. Hearing a distant scream of fury, he quickly took hold of the yellowed rock and hoisted himself from the earth, climbing for his life.

* * *

The entire city of Alexandria had been searched, from top to bottom, east to west, north to south. Neither Steiner nor his Knights, nor those of the late DelaCroix had found anything. The old tin man paced about before his faithful followers. So they had found nothing within the city's walls, that could only mean that her Majesty's captors had taken her and her companions out of the city. But they couldn't have gone far. Unless the culprits had Chocobos… then they would have a poor time ahead of them trying to track them down. There weren't enough of the bird-like steeds in the stables for all the Knights by far. Straightening, he sent his swiftest Knights to the stables to take the beasts where the rest of the armour clad men and women could not go. "The rest of you," he ordered, "come with me." 

With a swift and steady march, he lead them all out into the grassy plains just beyond the city's gates. He would get to the bottom of this, or he would renounce his Knightship. An orange glow rose upon the horizon. He steeled himself for the long day to follow.

* * *

A/N: Yes, the Gluttony's Chef was inspired by the coolness that is Pyramid Head. He's so neat, with his big helmet... I just like that wedge-shape. 

...Stupid spell-check... won't let me write things backwards... Oh, and sorry with the weird itallics / non-itallics switching during the Chef's speeches. The engine wouldn't accept some of them as they originally were... so I had to change a bunch.


	11. P3: iii

Disclaimers: Zidane and his lop-sided loons belong to Square Soft and Enix.

But the hopelss expanse, the ugly well, the ugly buildings, the especially large and ugly building, the ugly streets, Barbos, Kaada, Hura, Gora, Strong One, the Chef's toasted remains, everything else and the various piles of stinky gunk all belong to me. If you have some form of compulsion to utilise these stinky piles of gunk in your own tales of weird, be kind and ask me first.

* * *

**iii - Questioned Innocence**

The two mages stood up and dusted themselves off, feeling extremely lucky. They quickly retreated down the nearest cloth corridor, hoping to avoid any further encounters with either Barbos or Kaada.

More cages greeted their search for the Queen, each occupied by wailing men, women, and children. The noise was terrible. The forms held within the hideous prisons were horrible to look upon, charred and sunken. Blackened and burned hands, small, large, wounded or broken, reached out for the two mages, crying for freedom. The young magic users shuffled uncertainly forward, surrounded with confusion and fear. Fingers curled towards them, nails hardened into savage, crooked claws.

A small clearing amongst the cages came into view. Set against the wall, surrounded by howling husks of angry folk, was the Queen.

"Garnet!" called the two mages, rushing towards the ruler.

Hunched within her cage, her regal gown torn and stained, her coronet gone, the Alexandrian Queen stared off into space.

Vivi and Eiko grasped at the cage, slowly pulling it to the ground. The young Summoner pulled out her hair pin a third time, instantly going to work on the Queen's lock. The caged things all around them continued to shriek and wail, reaching for them, clawing and beating at the air with their fists. Within moments the lock was sprung. But the Queen did not move. "Miss Garnet!" called the black mage. "You're free. You can come out!"

The brunette gave them a weary glance, her eyes empty and hollow. The two mages gasped at what they saw. What was wrong with the Queen?

"Dagger!" called Eiko, "come on! We gotta get out of here!"

The ruler looked up slightly. "Where is… my missing shoe?" she whispered to the air.

Both the child mages passed worried looks. "Garnet?"

"I can't find my shoe…" She looked at her unshod foot. "I need it…"

Vivi was beyond confused. He cradled his aching arm. Had she gone mad? "Wh-what's going o-on?" he questioned the blue haired Summoner.

Eiko was at a total loss herself. The Queen was lost, but in what, she could not tell. But they had to get out of the tent. If they didn't find a way out soon, they would be found and forced back into those horrible cages. They would have to figure out what was wrong with the Alexandrian Queen later. She grabbed the rulers slender wrist. "Come on Dagger! We have to go!"

"Go?" repeated Garnet. "But what about my shoe? I can't go without my shoe…"

Eikp thought fast. "We'll find it, Dagger! We'll find your shoe! But you have to come out!"

"Oh?"

"Yes! And… and Zidane and Freya will help us, too! But we have to get out first, okay?" She felt stupid, having to talk to the Queen like this. She just hoped that she wouldn't slow them down.

The brunette got up slowly, holding the young Summoner's hand.

"Let's go!"

* * *

_--Strong One stood alone before the offal pit, the great knife in hand--The hot mists had scorched its sensitive skin and plugged its heightened sense of smell--Where did the Master go?--Why did It run?--The evil thing that had tried to harm It, was dead--The mind of the new Master was clouded with a haze Strong One did not understand--Even so, the Fortress of Ego had to be given new life; with new blood--It looked up through the well that lead to the surface of the Level above--Wet piles of rotten flesh and waste plummeted down to the earth below, slowly sinking into the hard rock--Strong One huffed--There were still those unwilling to allow succession upon the Throne of Pride--Such resistance would harm the new Master--Strong One roared, holding its acquired weapon high--It would find the new Master, and protect It with all it's might--It turned on its heel and started back--It knew of a faster way up--The knife dragged behind it--_

* * *

The room was quiet. Zidane squatted in his cage, peering over the silent collection of captives. Amarant stood before the fleshy mound upon the wall, unmoving. The ugly sore hadn't moved an inch since it had allegedly 'spoke' to the bounty hunter. The thief wrung the bars in frustration. That traitor! How could he have done this? Never in all his life could he have ever thought the man capable of such a thing. Despite his crude mannerisms and sheer arrogance, the redhead had gained the full extent of is trust to the very letter. He couldn't understand it. There seemed to be something missing… something vital in his accusation. But he didn't care. Amarant was dead to him. The blonde swore to himself, promising a revenge he never thought himself capable of even conjuring. The man would pay for this.

* * *

Amarant was at the end of his rapidly shortening rope. If he hadn't managed to keep the pitiful ounce of free will left he still harboured somewhere within the sphere of his conscious, he would have let go of the wall and gladly fallen to his death an hour ago.

The end of the stinking well was in sight. Though now, on top of the red scum from the veins and the gunk from the dark tunnel, he now had a fine coating of something utterly foul. He wasn't very keen on finding out what the stuff was. He hoped that maybe he could find some sort of pool to wash off.

All around him was as silent as the stone embedded within the earth. Nothing sounded from the well's dark mouth. This didn't prove too entirely heartening for the man, as he was now sure that any form of silence in this nutty place had a good chance of paving the way for something horrible. He wished he had never bothered to look for that stupid monkey.

He hauled himself over the lip of the well, huffing hard from the exertion of pulling his bulk up countless feet of slick rock and Heavens knew what else. He flopped pathetically to the ground, his flat hair fanning out around his head like some demented halo. He laid there, unmoving. His own reek made the bounty hunter wince. He groaned dejectedly. Of all the things he wanted in that very moment, food, peace, answers… everything was overshadowed by an alien want for a decent bath. He grabbed a handful of loose dirt and tossed it out ahead of him in a pointless show of angry grief.

Why was all this happening to him? He still refused to admit the truth of his location. It just wasn't possible! It defied logic! He covered his face with his filthy hands. Everything he had been through for the past thirty some-odd hours defied logic. It wasn't fair! He shouldn't have gone to that stupid show in that stupid, ugly tent! Maybe then, this wouldn't have happened! He would be heading back to Treno, without a care in the world! Free to wander the real world! He was determined to somehow prove that all of this was just some sort of hallucination, a product of a fevered mind in need of some serious therapy.

If only he hadn't answered that stupid thief's letter! If only he had stood his ground against going to the circus! If only he hadn't cared to go and look for Zidane and his pitiful posse! If only… if only…

He couldn't think of any more feasible excuses. All the rest hinged on something he'd rather let lie.

_If only he had finished me off…_ The fight in Madain Sari replayed in his mind. Zidane had beaten him soundly. The mere thought of it always made him sink to an ultimate low.

_Do you truly wish for death?_

If he had killed him… at least this wouldn't be happening. He wouldn't still be plagued with the inexhaustible need for answers he would never receive. He wouldn't be here, suffering at the hands of countless freaks of nature.

_Are you so sure?_

He knew so.

_Truly?_

"Shut up." The pain in his own voice shocked the man. Great, now he was talking to himself. The humming throbbed steadily in his brain, ever his constant companion. Was it so wrong to wish for death?

_To wish for death is weakness._

He tried to block the hum from his mind. He looked contemplatively at his tri-blade claws. They were, despite the horrible amount of abuse they had been through, still sharp. He turned his tired vision to his bare hand, focussing on the unarmed wrist beneath the green cloth of his ornamental cuffs. He raised both limbs before his weary sight.

_Weakling…_

He no longer cared. Not for the monkey and his foolish friends. Not for his answers. Not for a frigging bath. Not for his life. He rested the filthy knives against his left wrist.

Any last thoughts, Amarant old boy?

He pushed the blades against the blue flesh of his wrist.

Say goodbye to the world that brought you such pain.

The hum exploded between his ears, making him curl into a ball of silent agony.

_Fool! You were not built to be so weak! Get up! Imbecile!_

Amarant clung to the lip of the well, shaking uncontrollably. Never before had the hum gotten so loud! It felt as though something was beating at him with a mallet. He could not catch his breath. His vision was swimming like some sort of freakish confusion spell.

_How dare you…_

Why did this voice have to sound so much like his own? He didn't know where the voice was coming from. It was frightening. He wanted it to go away. "Leave me alone!" he shouted desperately to the sky.

The hum seemed to laugh. _Petty fool… Blind servant…_

He was no-one's servant! "Go away, dammit!"

_You will do as is required of you._

The hum receded.

The bounty hunter remained plastered to the well, peering out feverishly. This wasn't happening… couldn't be happening… He was hearing voices… being ordered around by a phantom…

What was his world coming to?

Regaining is breath, he took in his new surroundings for the first time. It seemed as though he was in an alleyway of sorts, surrounded by ramshackle buildings built from incredibly ugly, grey bricks made of anything but stone. Some even seemed to _pulse_. He quickly looked behind him. There was no sign of life behind him, or in front.

So… He was back on the surface… or at least where he had been before those blinding things had attacked him and sent him into that horrible tunnel. A thought struck him. He threw his head over the edge of the well, peering down into the dark depths, ears straining for any sound. He kept the pose for several long seconds. It seemed as though the fake Chef hadn't decided to follow him.

Somewhat relieved, he slumped back against the cold stone of the well. He rubbed his brow. What was he going to do now? It looked like he had found an indirect way past the tall walls that he had seen before the child had attacked him on the wastes. The tracks he had been following vigilantly seemed to had lead to whatever this city, if a city it was, was. And what if they went through it?

He had to find those tracks.

He looked to the sky, steadily getting to his feet. Whatever was posing as a sun here was beginning to set, draping the landscape in an ugly ochre sheen. There wasn't much light left, and he would need every second of it to reliably locate the prints he had been following earlier. Who knew what else laid within this hideous collection of buildings that could very possibly have similar, if not the same tracks.

The bounty hunter started for the alley's end, heading for the much larger street it spilled in to. Few things occupied his mind now. Not only was he going to track down his friends, but that clone. It seemed very clear to him that the impostor was somehow the cause of all this, and he was more than keen to give the bastard a piece of his mind.

* * *

The three mages scurried about the tent, looking for the exit. The Queen followed the little Summoner without fail, silent and lost in her cloud of delirium. Though her feet were moving, she could not tell if she was truly moving. Within her severely reduced field of conscious, the Queen could focus on only one thing, the only thing to block away the horrible cries she could not answer.

She stared blindly at her unshod foot.

Every now and again she could hear that small voice in the back of her mind, telling her to wake up. Telling her that Zidane, her love, needed her help.

But she couldn't do anything with only one shoe. It would be so unbecoming of her… A Queen had to look prim and proper… _Foolish Queen…_ came an unbidden voice, _such blindness, such impudence… how long do you intend to let your people suffer?_ In her dwindling sphere of consciousness she searched the darkness for the source of the hurtful voice. She called out into the ethereal gloom, but no sound escaped her. She wallowed helplessly in her ditch. _Deaf Queen, blind Queen, can't you hear your people cry? Can't you see them beg? They scream for deliverance, why don't you answer? Why don't you help? Have you lost faith in your people?_ No! She tried to argue, to prove the accuser wrong, but still she could say nothing. She stood up, her white dress coated in black mud. She reached for the walls that surrounded her, looking up to the exit far above her. There was nothing._ You couldn't even keep the one you cared for most, you let him get away… and forget you._ The Queen clawed at the walls of her self-made prison, trying desperately to escape. The slippery walls fell apart like wet dirt at her touch, denying her purchase and further covering her in nameless filth. Lost deep within the expanse of her conscious, the Queen wept. Where was Zidane?

Meanwhile, Eiko was nearing the end of her rope. Things were going poorly. Vivi could do nothing with his injured arm, and Dagger was proving to be a lead weight. They needed to get out. But where were all the exits? Tents always had more than one way in or out, didn't they?

They were so close, and she knew it. The tarp walls beside them were rippling ever so slightly with a wind, meaning that the outside was only a hairbreadth away. But how to get there?

Vivi stood quietly. The monsters had probably taken notice of their absence by now. He could just here the patter of mismatched feet pass on the other side of the cloth walls. They were going to be found if they weren't careful. He really didn't want to come face-to-face with that Kaada creature again. They had been standing here for a fare bit, and he couldn't understand why. Had Eiko found something? "W-what's happening, Eiko?" he asked quietly.

The young Summoner looked contemplative. "The city is just outside this wall…"

The black mage looked about. The walls were made of cloth, and were held down with thick metal pins. If the pins were lifted, then maybe… "Why don't we try crawling under the tarp?" he suggested.

The blue haired girl stood up straight. Such a simple solution… She mentally berated herself for not thinking it up earlier herself. She instantly dropped to her knees and started pulling at the pins in the hard ground. Vivi knelt to help her with his one good hand. Between them, they pulled enough of the pins from the tarp to allow them to crawl to freedom. As an added precaution, Eiko lifted the cloth to peer out into the space beyond. An empty street greeted her search. She sat up. "The coast is clear," she told the other two mages. "Let's go."

She guided the Alexandrian Queen to sit before the makeshift exit. "Okay, Dagger, you go first."

The Queen stared blankly at nothing. "But… I'll get dirty… My dress…"

The brunette's behaviour was nothing short of puzzling to Eiko. What happened to the strong-willed mage she had travelled with? This was worse than when she had lost her voice. The woman's gown was anything but _clean_. "You'll… uh… find your shoe outside, Dagger!" she told the ruler. "You want to find your shoe, right?"

"Yes…"

Eiko slowly guided the Queen to the outside, remaining on the other side of the tarp to hold it open for the injured black mage before crawling out herself.

The three quickly regrouped and set on their way, with close to no idea of where to start their search for the others. At the moment, anywhere was better than here.

The street was dark and empty, the 'sun' already well below the roofs of the surrounding buildings, draping everything in shadow. They rushed against the walls, hoping to remain unseen for as long as possible. Vivi cringed when he felt the wall of the nearby building. It _squirmed_ beneath his fingers. He pulled away in disgust, his tight stomach doing slow summersaults. "Eww…" he groaned, staying well away from the soft bricks of… something.

"What's the matter?" questioned Eiko.

"Th-the walls…" he whispered, pointing.

She couldn't help but roll her eyes. She put a hand against the stone, to meet not hard rock, but something considerably softer. It nearly sucked her hand right in. She yanked her hand away. "Ick!"

"See?"

The Summoner kept a straight face. She was the leader of this sorry trio, and she had to be strong. No break downs, no weakness. Not like in that tent. Not like when that poser bounty hunter had insulted her. She had to be strong! Like Zidane. Her hero. Her unspoken centre of her affections.

She lead the others forward, hoping for some plan or some sense of a useful idea to come to mind.

Zidane was still very much the man of her dreams, though she knew that there was no way she could come between him and Dagger now. She had helped the two get back together with the surprise play, but that didn't mean she wasn't still a little _jealous_ of the Queen. She always seemed to get what she wanted. She had Zidane… She had an entire kingdom willing to bend over backwards at her every whim…

Sure, Eiko had suitors of her own, but they were nowhere near as _wonderful_ as the former thief. She was only eleven, but she liked to think of herself as well educated beyond her age. She could see right through a lot of the people she was forced to socialise with during her father's balls. She didn't really fit in, and she knew it. She grew up on her own for much of her life, raised by Moogles in a barren desert. This in itself would make the lesser nobles scoff and turn up their noses. It angered her. Her adopted parents loved her. And she loved them. But that could never change what she was, who she was, or what she truly wanted. And now she was leading the brunette Queen about like a seeing-eye dog. It was quite clear to her that she could do nothing for them if they ran into trouble. And what if worst came to worst? They had to survive, above all things.

If things went bad… would they have to leave her behind? And what about Vivi?

"Where a-are we g-going?" piped Vivi from the back.

She snapped back to attention. She instantly felt ashamed. How could she even _consider_ such things? The Queen was her friend, and so was Vivi. If it hadn't been for them and everyone else, including that awful bounty hunter, she wouldn't be where she was today, with loving parents and a whole new life still ahead of her.

And just where _were_ they going?

She stopped and surveyed their new location. The tent was far behind them, its peaks rising just above the roofs of the ugly buildings around them. The sky was dark. The… whatever… had set. Shufflings could be heard from inside the constructions about them, low and laboured. A distant shriek sounded far to their left, tearing through the stale air. The children gasped lightly at the awful sound. The Queen did nothing, examining the pebbles on the ground.

A second cry rattled from the 'house' just beside them, high and fraught with agony.

Eiko thought that now would be a good time to get moving. She motioned the other two mages to follow her. They hadn't taken three steps when the source of the terrible scream burst through the rickety plank of battered wood that served as the building's door. A stick-like figure, almost human in appearance, shambled out from the darkness beyond and out into the side street. Its body shook and convulsed as it walked towards the stricken mages. One leg was badly swollen, while the other was hardly a toothpick in girth. Its jaw was hanging off its face like some rotted shred of cabbage, blackened and useless. Its skin and what little it wore were charred black as if it had been burned in a great flame. It chattered and moaned pathetically.

Eiko was frozen in place. The thing, whatever it was, was coming straight for them. She pressed herself against the soft wall behind her. Vivi was panicking as well. His arm was still aching like mad and he didn't have the energy to run. Garnet was as still as stone, looking at the ground. The thing was blocking their way to the main street. But they couldn't go back, not to that horrid tent with that freakish creature that called itself Kaada.

The charred monster shuddered violently, falling to the ground. It shook and twitched upon the hard earth. Soft snaps of what the children were sure were its bones breaking sounded from its tortured body. The force of its convulsions quickly rose, its head and limbs jerking to and fro unnaturally fast. The skin broke and the arms bent at bad angles. Translucent orange ooze began to pour from its rapidly widening wounds, soaking the ground. It shrieked at the sky, arching its back against the earth in a near-perfect inverted U-shape.

The mages took a collective step backwards as its stomach burst open. Orange goo flew everywhere, splattering onto the walls and floor all about it, nearly hitting the assembled escapees. The thing went still.

Eiko's heart was hammering in her throat. What was that? What had just happened?

The body seemed to suddenly bloom, slowly tearing apart as something bright and radiant rose from the beaten corpse. The two children watched in awe as the spear of light unfolded into a fair, unclothed man. Light poured from every inch of his body. A smile as pure as the glow that surrounded him crossed his features. _I am free…_ rang a voice inside the mage's minds. _At last… my soul is pure… cleansed…_ He regarded the child mages warmly. _You, too… will have your chance to rise…_

The man seemed to fade, the light rising up into the sky. Eiko and Vivi watched in wonderment as the form faded into the distance.

Eiko found herself smiling.

"Eiko!" shouted Vivi.

She snapped her attention to the open street ahead of them. She swallowed hard. Standing not too far from the charred remains of the now lifeless husk, drooling and hissing, was Barbos.

* * *

Amarant looked up to see a great spear of light rising from the earth in the distance.

He gawped at the sight. Somehow, it gave him… hope. He watched it rise.

A scream, high and young, tore him out of his reverie. He caught his breath. He knew that shriek. It was that brat!

Before he knew it he was charging down the dusty streets as fast as his legs could carry him.

* * *

_--Strong One looked to the dark sky with its beady eyes--It could see the soul, purified of its sins, rise to the Realm far above--It reverted its attention back to the beaten street of the never-sleeping city of Pride, Mis--It could still sense the new Master, somewhere amongst the dirty buildings of the Prideful Damned--An unfamiliar cry rose above the pained silence of the chattering husks of waste that were the charge of the underlings of Ego, speaking of fear and hopelessness--Such was the language of this place--Strong One snapped its head upwards, just catching the shadow darting out from between the ugly shacks towards the sound--Master!--It restarted its slow march, hissing its continuous chant of praise and worship as it went--The others would soon follow--_

* * *

The footless beast advanced on them slowly, spit oozing from its lipless face in long threads.

Eiko was beyond frightened. She honestly didn't think that freak would find them. The thing clinked its metal nails together in anticipation, its footless legs carrying it over the turf effortlessly. They were trapped. They had no weapons. There was nowhere to run.

"HEY!"

Barbos swung its head around. A dirty fist ploughed into its cheek, knocking it against the wall.

"What the?" exclaimed the Summoner.

"M-Mister Amarant?!" chimed the black mage.

Garnet said nothing.

"Are you lot alright?" questioned the bounty hunter, blocking Barbos' angry retaliations. The man looked like he had been through Hell and then some. What happened to his hair?

"Y-yeah," squeaked the balck mage.

"NO!" screamed the Summoner.

_Indecisive brats…_ the man thought vehemently.

The freakish thing was furious. Hissing and spitting it swung its clawed arms every which way, hoping to skewer the bounty hunter by sheer chance if necessary. It was fast, incredibly fast. Amarant was having serious trouble keeping up with the creature's assaults. He was stiff from head to toe, and was weak from hunger; he'd be lucky to preoccupy the beast long enough for the mages to escape. With a grunt he managed to capture the hideous creature's wrists in his thick hands, careful to keep the fingers well away from anything vital.

Barbos shrieked, forcing all its weight on the redhead, slowly pushing him back.

Beneath his multiple coatings of filth and whatever else, Amarant was sweating like a pig. The dirty shell was preventing the accumulating heat from escaping his body, and it wasn't helping. His already weakening form wasn't taking to the rapidly rising temperature, he felt like a walking steam room.

With a vicious shove Barbos threw the man into the wall behind him, winding him and driving him to the ground. The redhead looked up angrily. The stomachless creature walked slowly up to him, relishing the other's pain and fury. With a loud hiss it rose a claw high, ready to bring it down hard upon the bounty hunter.

The two child mages could only watch.

Unable to muster enough strength to lift himself from the ground, the giant merely glared at his foe.

If it still had lips, Barbos would have grinned. With a shriek it brought the claw down.

The resounding clang of metal on metal rang throughout the alleyway.

Eiko and Vivi gawped at the new sight before them. Keeping the spindly creature's claws at bay, was the most horrible thing they had seen yet. Armed with a cleaver easily three times their size in height, was some butcher-like monster dressed in a bloody smock. It glared and pushed Barbos back, growling like a feral dog. The much thinner creature staggered backwards. The larger one brandished its weapon threateningly, standing protectively before the fallen redhead.

Amarant wormed stiffly on the ground. It was that fake Chef! How did it find him? What did it take to get rid of it? It was preoccupied with Barbos for now, but when that was finished, what then? He couldn't get back onto his feet.

_--The Master was hurt and unable to battle--Strong One glared at the Fallen--Its usefulness at the Founder's side had come to an end, and it would be the one to put it out of its misery--There would be no repentance for this failure--_

The Chef tensed. Barbos leapt. The two clashed like raging titans, sparks flying everywhere from the sheer force of the connecting blows.

Amarant was beyond confused. First, that thing had killed the real Chef. Then, it _became_ the Chef. It had chased him across the industrial kitchen far below where he was now. And now, it was going head-to-head with his clone's slave. Whenever he ended up in trouble, that thing showed up. What for? What did it want?

_--Strong One was pocked with bleeding scratches, but its foe was weakening--The Fallen knew its time had finally come--Strong One parried one last blow, forcing the other's arms upwards--Taking the opportunity, it quickly drove its bladed weapon down hard upon the creature's cranium--_

Eiko and Vivi cringed against the walls as Barbos slumped to the ground in two clean halves. Thick orange ooze poured from its shattered body like a broken pipe as the body slowly disintegrated into a pile of rot before being absorbed by the parched earth. Victorious, the butcher-creature howled at the sky, planting its cleaver into the ground with a hard thrust of the blade.

The Chef turned to face him. Amarant tried to at least crawl away, but he couldn't even push himself a mere inch from the ground. He yelped as the fake Chef's dainty hand grasped the back of his shirt and hauled him to his feet, setting him on the ground so that he could stand. The bounty hunter leaned against the soft brickwork, eyeing the creature carefully. It made no move to retrieve its weapon.

The mages just stood there, waiting for the second round of blows. Garnet remained emotionless and segregated, still staring at the ground. The ponytailed beast stood quietly, keeping its beady gaze pinned to the bounty hunter. It suddenly hissed. "_Rreettssaamm…_" Was that a word?

Amarant cast a quick glance around the alleyway. That hideous word usually seemed to bring a multitude of those blobs running, and that was the last thing he needed. The fake Chef, as if seeing his distress, cocked its head to one side in question. "_Rreettssa--_" Without thinking, the man gripped the base of the creature's absurdly long nose to seal its mouth shut. Too late, he realised, that the thing was going to tear his arm off. Much to his surprise, and that of the two arguably conscious mages, the Chef did nothing. He pulled his hand away slowly, hoping that the thing would stay quiet.

_--Strong One was confused--Didn't the Master wish to hear the praise which was due to It?--Did it do something to displease It?--_

Much to his relief, the thing stayed silent. No more hisses. No more freakish chants.

Alright, so it seemed as though it wasn't here to kill him. Amarant's brain was spinning in incomputable directions, producing nothing he could use. He looked at the thing carefully. "…Who are you?" he questioned. He felt stupid talking to the thing, but what else was he to do?

The thing frowned slightly.

Great. So it didn't understand English.

_--The Master had spoken to it!--Strong One felt honoured beyond anything it had ever experienced--But the new Master's speech was fast and foreign--It racked its misshapen brain to define the meaning of It's words--_

Eiko squinted at the bounty hunter. What was that weirdo doing? Why was he _talking_ to that thing? She watched as the monster put a slender hand to its chest. "_…Gggnnnooorrrtttsss Eeennnooo…_" it said.

The redhead peered at the false Chef. What was that? Speech? As effortlessly as before, the drawn out phrase unwound and rearranged themselves into a form the man could understand …Strong One? Was that… its name…? An awkward title… but oddly befitting. "Strong One, huh?" he said, still trying to make sense of all this.

Eiko was getting impatient. While the bounty hunter was making small-talk with a freak of nature, the others were probably being taken further and further away, or worse. They had to find them! She marched up to the man as fearlessly as she could in the massive monster's presence. "Hey!" she addressed him. She received a glare from the huge freak.

"What?" questioned Amarant.

"We have to find the others!" she said simply. She noticed something. "Ew! You stink!"

The man frowned. "Don't start, brat. I've been through enough without your irritating squeals."

She gawped at him.

Vivi came up to join in on the small argument, leading the Queen alongside him. He looked up at the butcher. "I-is th-that your f-friend?" he questioned the redhead quietly.

Amarant gave the thing a once-over, more to assure himself that it wasn't going to be pulling any fast moves than anything else. It just stood there, staring back at him. "I guess. For now, anyway." He tossed a glance at the Alexandrian Queen. She looked nothing short of traumatised. "What's up with the Princess?"

"She's a Queen!" retorted Eiko.

"Pipe down! Or you'll be attracting worse things than this happy chap right to us."

"W-we don't know w-what's wrong with her," supplied Vivi as the blue haired Summoner began to go red in the face. "Sh-she keeps talking a-about her shoe. It's l-like she's hypnotised."

He thought over this new information. He scrutinised the ruler carefully. One of her shoes were missing. But what was with the hollow sheen in her gaze? From the looks of it, the ruler's conscious had somehow receded to somewhere beyond their reach. Something really bad must have happened to put her in such a state. Madness was not his expertise by far, but he figured that if they wanted to bring the Queen out of her reverie, they had to make her come to terms with whatever had happened. "Where's Zidane?"

"H-he's probably with f-Freya. B-but we don't know w-were they are." The kid looked as though he was about to cry a river. He kept his left arm close to his body.

"What's the matter with your arm?"

"I-I don't know… I hit it a-and n-now it won't s-stop hurting."

"Here, let me see." He knelt on the ground, taking the mage's arm in his grasp gingerly. "What part of your arm did you hit?"

"M-my wrist," he snivelled.

He lifted the edge of the youth's leather glove to peer at the damage. The mage's wrist was badly swollen and angled in an awkward position. "Your wrist is broken," he stated flatly. The bones would need to be reset, from the looks of things. He looked around, standing up. He doubted that there was anything here that they could safely utilise to make a splint for the mage.

They all had to relocate, at the very least. Who knew what kind of attention the fight between the fake Chef and Barbos had attracted? But where could they go? "Where are the others?" he questioned suddenly.

Both mages were silent.

"…We don't know," said Eiko quietly. She almost sounded… scared. Not once had the bounty hunter ever seen the girl afraid, her inner strength was one he had always, if not reluctantly, admired. But now, she looked as though she was about to break. They had all been through much it seemed, too much.

A thought came to him. "Wait here." He quickly scaled the nearest wall to the conjoined building's roof, looking out over the bleak city. What he saw boggled his mind. The settlement seemed to stretch out for _miles_, an unending mound of sickening brick and Gods knew what else. He turned about on the 'stone' roof, taking it all in. The same buildings… everywhere… as far as the eye could see. The ugly expanse was periodically broken by thick lines of black rock. Were those walls? The gloom was too think for him to determine. From a single glance he could count at least twenty of the lines circling everything around them before and behind him, the constructions fading off into the blackening distance. Why were there so many? What looked like towers speared out of the ground every so many blocks, breaking the monotony in a calculated pattern. Massive, glimmering orbs of some kind were set in each of the featureless constructions.

Something else rose out of the ugly sight to catch his attention.

A huge castle, no, _fortress_, squatted amongst the grey landscape. Multiple spires, decorated in the same way as the towers, struck out into the sky, higher than any other construction he could see from his vantage. What the Hell was that? Who dwelled within? Where the others there?

It was a good a possibility as any. His former goal to find the tracks of whatever had whisked the other away gone, he leapt back down to stand before the mages and the false Chef. "There's a fortress to the west. Zidane and the rat are being held there, I suspect. But it's a fair distance away. A mile, maybe two, from where we stand."

Eiko and Vivi exchanged glances.

The redhead sighed lightly. There was no way those three would make it all the way there. If anything, they needed to get somewhere safe. The mages would only slow him down, and he was sure that he didn't have the time to spare to help them hunt down a shelter if he wanted to find that fool monkey and his furry friend. He suddenly turned to the wedge-headed Chef, an idea coming to mind. "You," he began, "why are you following me?"

The thing looked contemplative. It took in a long, almost laboured breath. "_Ooottt eeevvvrrreeesss…_" it replied.

He squinted at it. The fraud was much harder to understand than the original. "To serve? Who? Who do you serve?"

It took in another breath. "_Eeehhhttt Rrreeetttsssaaammm… Ooouuuyyy…_"

Amarant went pale. 'The… Master…'? _The Master… You…_ A swift replay of the creature chasing him through the steamy kitchens below invaded his mind's eye. That chant… was it…? …No… "No…" he said softly to himself. This wasn't happening, couldn't be happening. It was all some sick joke. A scowl instantly crossed his features, replacing his blank stare. Oh yes, he was going to get to the bottom of this. He'd turn this whole, disgusting place upside down if he had to. "Alright… alright, then. You three," he said, turning back to the startled mages. "This freak here is going to take you to a safe place to hide." he glared at the thing. "You will, won't you?" he questioned quietly. The thing nodded in response.

Eiko looked shocked. "What? You can' leave us with that thing! How do you know we can even trust it?"

"If you've got a better idea, I'd love to hear it," he snapped back. "We're surrounded by miles of grey brick and filth in every direction. So unless you've got some sort of magical escape plan, I suggest you do what I say."

"But that thing--"

He quickly cut her off. "It seems to think I'm it's boss or something. It's been popping up wherever I go and helping me out." He gave the Chef copy a sideways glance. "I think we can trust it."

"And what if you're wrong?" the Summoner questioned angrily. "It could just be fooling with your head! Have you even thought of that?"

"Look, brat, there aren't that many alternatives here. I've got my reasons to put… faith, I guess, in this thing. I want to get out of here as much as you do, but in order to do that we need to get organised. As far as I can tell, there's no way out of this place. There's nothing outside of this city other than miles upon miles of barren wastes. If we are going to try to get out of here, we'll do much better as a group. That's why I'm leaving you here with… him. I'm going to find Zidane and Freya."

"And what makes you think you can do that by yourself?" she interrogated, hands on her hips.

"What makes you think I can't?" he countered. The Summoner opened her mouth to start another retort. "I can't take you," he said quickly, silencing her. "You three have been through enough. The Queen's totally out of it. And I doubt that either you or the black mage are in any shape to defend yourselves, let alone help me."

Eiko scowled at him.

Vivi interjected. "M-mister Amarant! Th-the creature from th-the circus, he's the one who t-took your place!"

The redhead glared at the ground. The shape shifter? Xio? That hideous beast? It all snapped into place. The dead gaze haunting his vision, the sadistic grin. His head cleared. So, now his clone had a real face. He would make that sick bastard pay. He reverted his attention back to the children. "I'll be back with the others," he promised.

The Summoner huffed dejectedly. "Fine," she consented. "But if your 'friend' here pulls a fast one, you're gonna get it good!"

"Sure," he replied dismissively.

A slight shuffling began to grow from the direction of the tent. Vivi shot worried glances behind him. "U-um, y-you guys? I th-think that th-they're coming."

Amarant grabbed the fake Chef by the shoulder straps of its apron. "Take them somewhere safe," he ordered. "If you don't, I swear I'll hunt you down and tear you apart." It nodded in response. He let it go. The false Chef derooted its knife from the hard earth, peering at the spell casters indifferently. "Eiko, Vivi, take Garnet and follow him. I'll be back with Zidane and Freya as soon as I can."

The giant Chef creature started for the main street, giving a look over its shoulder to give the mages the idea to follow. Without any other options, the three did as they were instructed.

They swiftly disappeared behind the corner. With them gone, the bounty hunter figured it would be best if he, too, made himself scarce. The shuffles had gotten louder, accompanied by slow groans and hisses. The redhead scaled the opposite wall with just as much ease as the first, reaching the roof in a split second. Not favouring the idea of sticking around to see just what was coming, he set his sights on the ugly fortress far ahead of him and dashed for the edifice, keeping to the tightly packed roofs.

Back in the alley, two figures dressed in formfitting clothing emerged from the shadows. They moved aside to allow a much taller form to step into the receding light. Kaada, accompanied by its pets Hura and Gora, glared at the empty space that greeted them. The mages… the accursed spawn of the spirit worshippers, were gone. It had been entrusted with their punishment, and it had failed.

However, that didn't mean that it couldn't fix such a trivial problem. Those wretches had no power here, they didn't possess the skills to so much as tap into the reservoirs of the energies of this place, let alone wield them. It grinned unhealthily, the lips over its twisted mouth lifting to expose its equally misshapen teeth.

* * *

Freya's back was killing her. Her feet ached from the uneven level of the bars. The folk around her were still as silent as stone.

As was their captor. He hadn't moved an inch since they had arrived, and neither had the hissing mound of flesh. Something was up.

She shifted in her cage, trying to alleviate the aches and pains of her uncomfortable accommodations, making the prison rattle. There had to be a way out of here.

The Dragon Knight froze as the clone peered over his shoulder, sweeping the captive crowd with a smoky eye. He turned on his heel to face them. The creature scrutinised his prisoners, trying to pick out who had disturbed the silence. With a low growl he began to walk slowly down the isle between the collected cages, glaring at each occupant in turn. "Comfy, worms?" he questioned with a sneer. He stopped. "Speak up. The Master would value your worthless opinions." He laughed low when no-one answered.

The great double doors of the vast, dark chamber opened to admit a single trampoline artist. The performer slinked up to the clone, hissing in his ear. The fraud smiled. "Good. Then let us welcome It," he hissed back. "Open the Fortress' doors. We will let It come to us."

- - -

The plains around the city were empty, as he expected. Steiner had not yet heard word from his mounted scouts who had been sent well ahead of the rest of the group. He surveyed the deepening day with an aging eye, searching for anything that could give him even the slightest clue to the whereabouts of his beloved Queen.

"Steiner, sir!" called one of the novices, a toothpick of a young man named Gochov. He turned to face him as he neared.

"Yes?" he questioned, hoping for good news.

The young Knight saluted. "We haven't found any trace of the Queen, sir!" Steiner's shoulders slumped. "But we have found a large yellow tent not too far from the city gates. It's empty and looks as if some sort of fight went on in it; it's a real mess."

Steiner instantly brightened. A tent? Wait… that would be… the circus tent from the night before. But empty? Surely there should have been at least one person there. "You're sure it was empty?"

"The other Knights of Pluto are investigating even as we speak, sir," answered the youth enthusiastically, saluting a second time.

"Good. Take me there."

* * *

A/N: Please read and review! Tell me if you think I've gone off the deep end. Questions? I'll gladly answer them. And a big thank you, arigato, muchos gracias, et merci to LadyPhreyaKaiba, KASLiNN, vast-cerulean, and Devilish Kumuri for all of your support thus far! 


	12. P4: i

Disclaimers: Zidane and his wired babysitting subjects all belong to Squaresoft and Enix.

But everything else aside from them belongs to ME.

I'm so glad you all are enjoying this fic so much! It's -sniff- so touching... I'm going to go cry tears of happiness now... and make fun of the Travelosity Roaming Gnome.

Sorry, no double update this time.

* * *

**Part 4: TO GO!**

**i - Let Me Fall**

So far so good. The fortress was mere blocks away.

Amarant was tired and sore, and thus far hadn't encountered any other creatures since he had told the mages to run. Of course, whether or not this was a good thing was well up for debate.

He reached the unseen border separating the main city from the ugly sore at its centre. An odd collection of lights, huge but faint, played over the uneven cobblestones, mere inches from his feet. The bounty hunter looked up, searching for the source of the strange light. A massive tower, adorned with what looked like a lidless _eye_ peered about from the bulk of the fortress; others just like it were spaced about the stone and metalwork that made up the edifice, staring out over the landscape tirelessly. So, this place wasn't unguarded, at least.

He watched the wide spots of faint light as they travelled over the ground in what soon unfolded to be a carefully calculated pattern. There were little spaces that were left untouched at any time, leaving the redhead very few options to get to the gates that led to the fortress' courtyard. The man watched still. His patience was wearing thin.

The lights swayed before him slowly. Well, it's now or never. With a flex of his aching limbs he darted from his hiding place, weaving through the slim spaces left bare between passes. When he reached the twisted gates, he wasted no time in scaling its cold length to reach the grey courtyard on the other side. He climbed as quickly as his sore arms would allow, trying frantically to avoid been seen by the giant eyes as they slowly wound back in his direction. He reached the top fast enough, but the descent was proving to be a problem.

Amarant peered down from the crooked spires that decorated the black gate. He didn't realise just how tall the gate was until he was _at the top_. He mentally cursed a blue streak, gripping the bars with what little remained of his strength. What was he doing? He would be lucky to find the others inside that ugly building, let alone defend himself from whatever could be inside if that Chef was any indication of what cavorted about this horrible place.

His legs were too sore to climb down, and he was too high to jump safely in his condition.

_Do you wish to be caught?_ mocked his voice, rattling inside his brain. _Jump._

He didn't even notice that he had let go of the gate until he made contact with the stone below.

Miraculously, he landed on his feet. He quickly dashed behind a tall obelisk as the faint lights of the watching eyes swept the foremost part of the dead yard.

He rubbed his face, slowly regaining his breath. He was safe…? He looked up hurriedly, hoping to spot any threats before his luck turned sour. Much to his surprise, there was nothing. No guards. No giant eyeballs. No stone beasts that could count as sentries. Nothing. The disproportionate man surveyed the fortress from where he was, not wanting to take any chances just yet.

The courtyard was utterly lifeless, with nothing but grey stone and black monoliths as far as the eye could see. The yard looked infinite as it stretched well past his right and left. In front of him the spires of the fortress reached so far into the sky he had to crane his neck as far as it would go just to get an idea of where the top actually was. The fortress itself looked impregnable from every angle except the front door, if anything. Scarlet red, that one set of doors, at least fifty feet from the ground and twenty wide, was the only spot of colour on the whole edifice, surrounded by highlighted black and stony grey. He could see no windows.

Pushing himself away from the obelisk, Amarant took another gamble and headed for what seemed very clearly to him the only way in. He stopped uncertainly before the low, wide steps leading to the portals of bolted wood. He couldn't go back… could he? A quick glance over his shoulder dispelled that notion. He would never get past those eyes a second time. And what if he came back with Zidane and Freya? How would he get them out of here, much less himself? He reprimanded himself. He had gotten this far, best to figure all that crap out when it came to that.

His mind more or less made up, he advanced towards the ugly doors blocking his path, pondering over just how he would get them open. He doubted they were unlocked.

The bounty hunter stopped uncertainly before the doors, unsure of how to tackle his next obstacle. Figuring he had nothing better to try, he gave the wood a push. With a loud bang the portals swung open neatly. Utterly surprised, Amarant leapt to the side, out of sight of whoever may have heard the awful racket.

He waited. The doors remained open. No freakish guards came to see what was going on.

His heart slowing, he poked his head around the corner to make sure. An empty, grand hallway yawned out before him, black and cold. A thick red carpet trailed from the entryway into the unfathomable distance, framed by innumerable onyx columns spanning in every direction in carefully calculated intervals. He took a hesitant step inside, battling with himself over whether or not playing hero was such a great idea after all.

He turned back, hoping to get the heck out of this new prison. Unfortunately, the doors were closed. He ran up to them, panicking as he pushed and pulled against the giant slabs of wood in desperate attempts for freedom. The doors refused to so much as budge. How? How? How had they closed so quickly? So quietly? He slumped to the ground, slowly becoming overwhelmed with the conflicting wants and emotions threatening to bubble much higher than he usually allowed. He was trapped. Trapped! He was finally going to lose his already broken mind in a massive, ugly castle!

_Stop that!_ scolded his second voice. _Are you so weak? You are here. No-one has tried to stop you. Get up off your knees and move forward!_

Damn that voice. How he hated it. But yes, he was inside the abode of his enemy. And he hadn't been noticed yet, it seemed. He had the element of surprise. Best to use it before it went stale.

- - -

The mages were running as fast as their feet would carry them. The oversized butcher had the Queen slung over its shoulder, since she simply wouldn't keep up. Eiko and Vivi were already out of breath, but the thing was showing no signs of stopping.

_--Strong One didn't like being so far from the Master--Why were these mortals so important to It?--They were scum, the three of them--They were descendants of the deceitful line that unlawfully took what was never theirs to begin with--But the black one, Strong One did not know from what bloodline it heralded--It was empty, like a vessel; and yet full--This confused Strong One, but didn't change its opinion of the creature--For what reason did the Master wish for it to hide these three?--It could sense who was chasing them--Kaada--It had only heard the split Fallen's name spoken in whispers in the dark--It was an opposer to the inevitable succession upon Ego's throne, and very dangerous--If anything, it should abandon these lost causes and protect the Heir--These hounds would be getting what their kind deserved--…But the Master said to watch over them--And Strong One would do so--It was sworn to serve the Master, but they could not run forever--_

The thing suddenly ducked into a building, just as non-descript as the others around it. Eiko and Vivi swerved sharply to follow suit, determined to get even just a five second break. The Summoner shut the door behind her. The butcher ushered them with its knife to the very back of the sorry construction, placing them in the shadows behind what could only just qualify as a flipped dresser. Garnet simply sat against the wall, staring off into the space that was the floor. The giant butcher pushed a decrepit chair to hold the wooden door shut before stepping back with its blade held securely in the ready position.

What was going to happen to them?

_--Strong One could hear the fawns of the split Fallen approaching--With them would be their animal trainer--It would fight them, defend its Master's wish--Kaada would not be getting its crooked hands on these souls--_

The children held on to each other, fear washing over them. Soft growls and hisses sounded from outside.

They hoped that whatever was chasing them would pass the building by. Eiko, in attempts to seize any form of luck, began to pray silently to her ancestors and the Eidolons that made her people who they were.

_--Strong One cringed at the shriek that sounded from the head of the horned one--Fool!--Prayers would lead Kaada and its slaves straight to them!--_

The growls suddenly erupted in volume, followed by the distinct clicking of sharp nails on dry earth. The door rattled as something tried the jammed handle. The knob didn't give way. It fell still.

Something slammed against the wood of the door, making the collection of planks shake dangerously in the doorframe. The children cowered. The butcher stood its ground. Another slam shook the portal, and another.

With the fourth attack the chair holding the door shut shattered and the entrance fell to innumerable pieces. Hura and Gora stood just outside, their masks gone. Wild, yellow and red eyes glared out from sunken, almost wrinkled faces. Teeth dominated their features and only a wet cavity served as any form of nose. They stared the butcher down, growling ferociously. Spittle threaded from their lipless faces to pool about the ground. The twins entered slowly, the giant watching their every move carefully with its beady black eyes.

"_Evig su eht cigam sresu_," they demanded in gurgling voices.

The butcher took a defensive stance. "_Uuuoooyyy tttooonnnnnnaaaccc eeevvvaaahhh mmmeeehhhttt…_" it hissed back.

"_Leber… Uoy lliw terger siht!_"

Hura leapt first, sailing straight for the giant's face. The butcher caught the juggler by the throat, swinging its massive cleaver at Gora.

The second juggler dodged the blow. Hura was writhing in the monster's grasp like a serpent, the performer's body swinging and bending unnaturally. Gora shifted cautiously about the wedge-headed giant, creeping on the floor on all four of his limbs. The muscles seemed to bubble and stretch under his formfitting clothing, slowly morphing him into some freakish mockery of a lupine figure. His face remained the same, unsightly and crammed with sharp teeth.

Hura's writhing was beginning to cause the giant trouble. It growled as it strained to restrain him. The second juggler too began to change in shape, becoming lithe and prehensile.

Gora wound far enough around the giant to catch sight of the mages cowering behind the pathetic pile of furniture. He hissed and advanced slowly towards them, drooling excessively. The two child mages began to scream, pushing themselves against the wall.

The butcher snapped to attention. Hura had changed completely in its grasp, having morphed from an acrobat to a hybrid baboon. He clawed at the beast that held him by the throat.

With Gora inching closer and closer to the mages and Hura assaulting it, the butcher was having a difficult time trying to place priorities. It should deal with the apish one first, but the other was threatening the mages. And the Master wanted them to be kept safe. Only what the Master wanted was worthwhile. With a grunt it hurled its captive into the near wall, swinging its knife at the lupine attacker. The thing looked up at the last second, caught off guard by the sudden attack. The knife cleaved into the creature's body faultlessly, severing his torso from his waist. Yellow and orange gore flew in all directions, splattering the walls and making the mages shriek in disgust.

In turn, Hura picked himself up and lunged at the monster butcher, knocking it to the side. Gora screamed like an animal on the floor, his innards spilling and steaming about the floor. Regaining his wits, he pinned the mages with a hating glare and restarted towards them, with only his arms to pull him forward, determined to fulfill his own master's wishes.

Hura had the giant pinned to the ground. The fraudulent Chef held its cleaver in front of it to keep the monster at bay as he snapped at it.

Eiko and Vivi were screaming freely. They began to throw whatever they could reach, pebbles, stones, and sticks, at their assailant. Still Gora inched closer, growling and drooling. Panic setting in, the Summoner stood up, grabbing a sizable plank of wood in her gloved hands. "Get away!" she shouted hysterically. The thing roared at her. Eyes wild and hair anything but tidy, Eiko took one step forward and struck the beast in the head as hard as she could with her newfound weapon. The half-a-juggler reeled slightly from the strike, shaking his face in confusion.

Hura lost his footing over the Chef, allowing the butcher to push him back and stand up. The two circled like rival kick boxers, hissing and spitting. With a huff the giant charged at its enemy, ploughing him into the corner. Hura clawed feverishly at its face and shoulders in attempts to free himself. The giant paid the retaliations no heed, striking the monster in the chest with the butt of its cleaver's hilt. The juggler's chest collapsed from the blow, the wood of the hilt sinking deep. He slumped to the ground as the other pulled the instrument from his chest. With a bellow, the butcher brought the knife up high, and swung it downwards hard upon the creature's body. Hura's figure split in two as effortlessly as Barbos before him, his body melting into the same piles of rot and gore.

The Queen, still encased in her bubble of despair, could tell there was something going on, but could not for the life of her get past the singular obsession with good dressings her greater conscious had latched to in order to keep her sane. She was covered in dirt from head to toe, unable to cling to the slime-encased walls for more than a second. She couldn't do it… she was not strong enough… Where was Zidane to help her? _Can you do nothing yourself, oh Queen?_ mocked the voice she could not place or recognise. _Must you have others do your work for you?_ No! She was capable! _Are you? I think not, and neither do you._ She howled voicelessly at the dark.

Crazed beyond belief, Eiko started her own assault against their last remaining harasser. Tightening her grip about the plank of wood, she took another step towards the badly injured form of Gora, who had begun to back away, hissing profusely. Vivi watched in morbid amazement as the blue haired Princess landed another blow to the performer's face, knocking it to the ground. With a thrill unlike any other coursing through her veins, Eiko swung again and again. The strikes landed time after time, keeping Gora against the filthy floor. The makeshift weapon slowly began to turn yellow with wet life fluids from the creature.

Just how many times she had struck the thing she didn't know, having lost count. She finally fell back out of exhaustion, leaning against the fallen dresser. When she looked upon what was left of the former juggler, she felt sick. Gora's head was all but gone, reduced to a gross, bubbling, steaming pulp. She dropped the plank and clutched at the dresser, trying to keep the world from spinning as the body melted into rotten sick.

"Immmpresssivvve…" hissed a new voice. All heads, save the Queen's, turned towards the sorry building's only door. The misshapen form of Kaada stood just inside, grinning down upon them all. "Yyyou ssslew my little petsss… How crrruel of yyyou…" The creases of its face wove and undulated about its head. "Yyyou will all be punissshed… made to sssufferrr for a thousssand yearrrsss, morrre, if I sssee sssuch to be fitting of yyyou…"

"_Aaadddaaaaaakkk…_" hissed the giant.

Kaada turned its warped head to face the creature. "Ssso… yyyourrr lot have sssurrrfaccced, have theyyy?… How pitiful… theyyy will all die alongssside yyyou forrr yyyourrr trrreassson againssst the Founderrr… the Masssterrr that gave yyyou life… Ssshameful, ssshameful…"

"_Eeehhhttt yyylllnnnooo eeemmmaaahhhsss sssiii rrruuuoooyyy nnnwwwooo… Wwwooohhh eeerrraaaddd uuuoooyyy eeesssooopppooo eeehhhttt nnnoooiiisssssseeeccccccuuusss fffooo eeehhhttt Rrriiieeehhh…_"

Kaada seemed to sneer. "That crrreaturrre is not worrrthyyy to take the thrrrone of Prrride. Not even the Darrrkessst Lorrrd will allow it, sssurrrely… Sssuch weaknessss… from living with morrrtalsss!… It isss ussseless to usss now!… The Masssterrr will dessstrrroy it!… Xxxio will lurrre the beassst to the Masssterrr'sss clutches forrr sssacrrrificcce… All usss faithful ssserrrvantsss will be rrrewarrrded for our dedication… The weakling's flesssh will be burrrned overrr the pitsss and we will all feassst upon itsss bonesss!…"

The fake Chef growled angrily.

The mauve beast turned to face the trembling mages. "And yyyou thrrree… Yyyou will sssufferrr forrr the crrrimesss of yyyourrr ancccesssotrrrsss… theirrr blasssphemy…"

Eiko gave the creature a withering look. No-one talked about her parents that way! No-one! "My ancestors have never done anything wrong!"

Kaada laughed at the anger mirrored in the child's eyes. "Oh… poorrr currr… Arrre yyyou ssso blind?… But I guesssss that halfbrrreedsss like yyyourrrssself would wallow in sssuch denial…"

The Summoner scowled. "What are you talking about?" she questioned carefully.

Kaada gurgled and took a few steps towards the girl, but staying well away, as to not provoke the false Chef. Its two-pronged, footless feet knocked against the wood quietly. "Have yyyou everrr wonderrred wherrre yyyourrr ssso called powerrr came frrrom?…"

Eiko was silent.

"Well…" hissed Kaada, grinning wide, "…sssuch powerrr never comesss to merrre _morrrtalsss_ naturrrally… Countlessss millennia ago… the firrrssst of yyyourrr kind became awarrre of ourrr presssenccce in the flow of life… When we could frrreelyyy walk the morrrtal rrrealm in peaccce…Theyyy became jealousss of ourrr powerrr…to command the etherrreal elementsss to ourrr willsss… Theyyy wanted it… asss theirrr own…" It peered darkly at the Summoner. "Well… beassst… do yyyou know what theyyy did to attain it?…"

Eiko was as still as stone. "…What…?"

The thing sneered. "…The sssacrificcce… of one thousssand Inferrrnal folk… Unlawfullyyy ssslain… byyy a pack of grrreedyyy humansss… Theyyy butcherrred them… rrreduccced to a thousssand lifelessss piecccesss of flesssh… Theyyy devourrred theirrr ssskinsss and drrrunk theirrr blood… Taking what wasss neverrr theirrrsss to wield… Theyyy became halfbrrreedsss… Theyyy called themssselvesss the Sssumonerrrsss…"

"No…"

"Yesss…"

"No! You're lying!" she shouted desperately.

"Ssstupid girrrl… denial will do yyyou nothing…"

"Liar!" She stood up. "That's not true! What about the other magic users? Not all of them are Summoners! It is a natural ability! Not derived from freaks like you!"

The creature laughed.

_--Strong One watched--Kaada was not threatening them… yet--The fallen's words were causing the female pain, but it did not care--The Master did not demand that it maintain their minds, only keep them from being slain--Besides… such creatures should be disillusioned of their so-called superiority--But one wrong move from the split fallen… and it would tear it apart--_

"What… thossse ssso called black magesss?…" hissed Kaada. Vivi looked up. "Theyyy arrre but emptyyy vesssselsss… made to contain the enerrrgiesss that leak out frrrom the Inferrrnal Rrrealm… Jussst like the Warrrbeassstsss of the corrrrupted genomessss of Terrrra…"

"How dare you," hissed Eiko, "to insult my friends!"

"Feh… and what will yyyou do?… One sssuch Warrrbeassst waged battle againssst yyyourrr Gaia… dessstrrroyyying all and everrryyything… Anotherrr awaitsss Judgement beforrre the Masssterrr… in the Forrrtrrresss of Ego…"

"Zidane…"

- - -

He wanted out.

Zidane knew that his request was probably never going to be answered at this point, but he could always hope, right? The acrobat had long since left, leaving Amarant to stand before the ugly mound on the wall. What was he doing, anyway? Aside from just mocking the entire collection of prisoners, he had done absolutely nothing since the welt had 'spoken' earlier.

And just what did they want with them? There were at least a few hundred people being held here. Were they all going to be made into slaves? He couldn't think of any reason anyone would want so many. He wrung he bars, trying to think up a plan of escape. The thief looked to his lock. It was old and coated in rust. Maybe he could pick it and free himself.

But where would he go? Even if he did get free, how long would it last? He was stuck inside a monstrous castle of some kind and he doubted he would even be able to leave this chamber without being spotted by either the bounty hunter or whatever it was that was growing off the walls.

Well… any chance was a good chance, Baku had always told him. Better to go out running than crying on your knees.

The blonde pulled one of his cufflinks free from his decorative blue sleeves. The metal pin came free to reveal a long point, just enough to feed into the padlock. He reached out quietly, taking hold of the ancient instrument and upturning it to expose its worn keyhole. With a precautionary glance to the traitorous redhead, he silently jammed the cufflink into the lock.

He picked at the stubborn lock as patiently as he could, casting continuous glances to his former friend and companion. He was beginning to sweat from the mounting strain of keeping so quiet.

"It won't work, whelp."

The trickster froze. He trained his blue gaze on the raised front of the chamber. Amarant was gone?

The voice laughed at him.

He spun around and gasped. The bounty hunter was beside him, grinning down on him. How? How had he snuck up on him? He glared into the taller man's smoky eyes without care.

Amarant grinned wider. "Such hatred," he chuckled. "So much, to be bottled within a pathetic being such as yourself." Zidane's glare deepened dangerously. The man revelled in the actor's fury. "What's the matter? Do you wish to kill me? Tear me to pieces?" he egged, laughing shamelessly.

"You bastard…" hissed Zidane. His fury rose to a rhythmic pulse throughout his body.

"Is that all? Mere names?" taunted the bounty hunter. "You can do better than that. Show me how much you hate me."

The thief couldn't hear anything anymore. He kept his gaze locked with that of his antagonist, lost in the featureless depths of smoked green. A familiar power, one that had saved his life countless times, began to well up within him, filling his body with a static charge that simply could not be explained. Just a little more… then he would give that wretch a piece of his mind. And he would enjoy it.

Still, the redhead taunted him. "Come and get me, you tailed fool. Are the bars too strong for you? I expected better."

The pool of green simply got deeper, drowning him. He couldn't take it anymore.

The world exploded in a brilliant flash, making all present shield their eyes. Zidane's rusted cage blew apart, leaving a blazing being in its wake.

Anger and hatred filled his mind, focussed on one thing and one thing only. Amarant stood not too far before him, still smirking at him. He would kill the man, make him pay for what he did. He had hurt, and probably killed, old Rusty… he had hurt Garnet, Vivi, Eiko, Freya… he had kidnapped them all and brought them here. He would beat him to an inch of his life and force him to confess everything and set them all free. He'd break every bone in his body… Get back at him… for everything… the ignorance… the arrogance… He'd had enough.

The bounty hunter didn't loose his grin in the slightest. "Come, worm," he hissed at him. "_Come and get me_."

Zidane didn't wait to be mocked a second time. He rushed at the man, any thoughts of mercy tossed from his mind. He didn't have his daggers, but that didn't matter. His hands would be enough for this. He would throttle him, break him. It didn't matter how, but he would. The figure ahead of him didn't move, standing slack in his path of rage. This was it. He leapt, sailing with deadly accuracy at the bounty hunter's throat.

- - -

He didn't know why he was running.

Columns of onyx flew past him in a cold rush in every direction, the blazing red carpet leading him faultlessly towards a destination he could not fathom but wanted more than anything to reach. He could feel it. He was reaching the end.

What he had wanted for over twenty long years was finally within his grasp. He had only to reach out and grab it. Doors, tall and foreboding, came into view. This did not stop him. Just a little bit more! Then it would all be his.

- - -

It happened so fast that he didn't even have time to realise what had transpired until the cold voice tore into his blackened mind.

"Ha! Is that all? You are truly a weakling amongst the supposed mighty!"

His vision cleared slowly. He tried to move, but he couldn't feel his arms or his legs. A cold grip tightening about his neck brought him back completely. The thief wormed and gasped, trying desperately to make his arms move. He stared into the face of the victor, and whatever power he had held just seconds ago promptly left him.

The bounty hunter had him dangling from his grasp; the smoked green stare that had frozen him before had been replaced by a dead sheen of white. Ugly blotches of red ringed the eyes. The familiar smirk was relieved by a toothy grin crammed with lines of incisors.

He couldn't breathe. The clawed hand was squeezing the air out of him. Was he… going to die?

"What a fine specimen you are, Terran Warbeast. Such wrath I have never seen in many years." The bounty hunter brought him close, staring into the watering blue orbs mercilessly. "A soul like yours will linger in our Boilers for an eternity to come, for a monster such as you won't cleanse easily…"

Zidane's vision was going black at the edges. His head felt like a balloon.

"Your punishment starts here," said the man. He opened his jaws impossibly wide, his face stretching to accommodate the new rows of needle teeth that came into existence at the freak's will.

The thief could do nothing. He was going to be eaten by the man he had once entrusted with so much.

"LET GO OF HIM, YOU FRAUD!"

The clone peered at the doors to his Master's chamber.

Amarant, weary and coated in more than enough filth, glared up at the double that was mere seconds from biting his friend in two. The creature remained frozen as he walked calmly up to the raised alter. He noticed half-heartedly that there was a hideous mound of what appeared to be flesh growing out from the ebony walls just above the fake.

Xio retracted his jaws as the other advanced, grinning wide. Oh, yes. Everything was coming to pass as it should. "You _want_ him?" He held the limp form of the thief out in the air, loosening his grip just enough to allow the tailed freak to choke on the stale air. "Come and retrieve him."

Zidane could hardly see his head was spinning so fast. But he could still hear. Over the harsh beating of his own labouring heart he could hear two voices… They both sounded like… Amarant? He strained to clear his head. Was he hearing things? Was he dead? Had that monster of a man eaten him?

"Put him down," ordered the real bounty hunter slowly, stopping just before the first step of the alter. He could feel… something. Something living here. Stirring.

Xio could feel it, too. He was ecstatic about it. The Master was waking. It's child had returned to It. He took a few steps back with the thief dangling in his grasp. "You have to take him from me," he egged, eyes wide in a fathomless madness.

Amarant remained where he was. He didn't want to so much as brush against that alter. There was something terrible, other than that bastard clone, up there, waiting for him. But he had to get Zidane. The thief looked like he was nearly up to his neck in his own grave. The monkey's eyes were anything but bright, swimming in a haze he was sure was near death experience.

The shape-shifter adjusted a claw on his captive's neck, pressing it against the pale skin just enough to draw blood. He would bring him up here, and all will be as it should. He caught his target tense as the small rivulet of red wormed down the blonde's neck. "Come and get him," he reinstated softly.

The redhead clenched his teeth. He didn't entirely have a choice. The freak had the upper hand, and there was nothing he could do to turn the tables in his favour. Xio took another step backwards on the wide alter, staring down at him through lifeless eyes.

"I will snap him in two," he threatened. "Or perhaps… slit his throat… Let him die slowly…"

"Don't you dare! Release him!"

He held him up higher. "Then come for him. Ascend… and he is yours."

Swallowing his caution, he stepped onto the first black stair.

Xio's head was swimming his deformed heart was beating so fast. Yes, Yes! Closer! His grin was impossibly wide.

Amarant knew he was doing something stupid. He reached the top, glaring at the smiling freak. "Give him to me."

Xio held Zidane out towards him slightly. "Come and claim him."

He clenched his fist, ready to beat the living tar out of the circus mutant. He took a long step towards him.

Yes! The shape shifter lurched forward, taking a merciless hold of the bounty hunter's wrist and throwing the suffering thief over his head to the floor below.

Amarant watched in utter surprise as the limp body of his friend sailed over the alter to crash land on the red carpet at the steps' bottom. He made to go after him, but the vice grip of the fraud stopped him cold. "Let me go, you freak!" he cursed.

Xio was still smiling. "No." The alter began to rumble.

He looked about frantically as the tremors increased.

"There is no need to fear," said Xio, keeping the panicking man still. "All will soon be as it should. You will be the one to raise us up to where we belong."

"What?" The bounty hunter stared at him incredulously.

"It has been so long, sibling."

"I'm no sibling of yours!" he spat, trying desperately to wrench himself free.

The clone quickly knocked him to the ground, pinning his thick wrists above his head with a powerful grip and pressing a knee into his stomach. Xio stared at the man obsessively. "Relax," he slurred. "It will all be over soon."

"Let go of me!" He struggled against the impossibly strong hold of the shape shifter. The creature continued to stare at him with the unblinking gaze of unlife. It was freaking him out something fierce.

"Why do you struggle?" Xio questioned in a new voice, higher. His grin was simply too wide for his face. "Aren't you happy to return to your creator after so long?" He cocked his head to one side. "_We've all missed you… Rrrrreeeettttsssssaaaammmmm…_"

Amarant screamed, and the floor gave out beneath them.

- - -

Steiner withheld the urge to put a kerchief over his nose. The stench was terrible.

The circus tent he and the Queen had but just been within the night before was in tatters. The ground was slick with what looked like rotten… something. Some of the less experienced Knights were off puking in a corner, the sight in the Centre Ring being just too much for them. A corpse of some kind took up most of the space in the Ring, nearly floating in the pool of muck and rot that surrounded it.

Steiner worked his way around the Ring slowly, trying to get as good a view as possible without having to actually step in the stuff on the floor. However, it soon became clear to him that staying clean was not an option he would be able to entertain. Holding his breath, he took a tentative step into the mulch that had flooded the Ring. Whatever it was, it soaked almost immediately into his metal boots, sloshing over his bare feet in a gross hush. He closed his eyes tightly to stem the urge to vomit.

Somewhat accustomed to the reek, but not really, he stepped over to the body in the middle of the gunk.

It was the Ring Master. Steiner gagged. The man was clearly quite dead, he was grinning with his eyes still wide open. The same rot that surrounded him was flowing slowly from his nose and squeezing out from between his impossibly white teeth. His arms were spread out from his sides, his once slicked hair floating out around his head like a mutilated halo. The old Knight looked away, utterly sickened.

He slugged off to the backstage curtain, hoping to at least alleviate the grossness that was threatening to spill out from his stomach. Coughing slightly from the sludge's fumes, he stumbled into the dark space beyond the purple curtains. He looked about, his equilibrium returning. The space behind the Centre Ring was crowded with what looked to be animal cages, hundreds of them. For some reason, it made him feel weak. He continued to walk past the innumerable cages. What kind of circus would need so many? He stopped, spying something out of place in the gloom.

In the precise centre of the backstage, was a mirror.

* * *

A/N: Woot! The plot continues to thicken! What will happen next? Stay tuned and the answers will come in another two weeks time!

Yes, and there's a complete near-lack of dividing lines! It's so clean! I'm hoping this makes it a little less, er, cluttered than all the other chapters (which, I now realise, are full of them).

...Yes, Xio is a creep.


	13. P4: ii

Disclaimers: Zidane and his whacked-out fieldtrip groupies all belong to Squaresoft and its symbiont Enix.

But absolutely everything else is mine.

This is where a whole bunch of stuff comes together folks. Everything shall begin to make sense! (Evil maniacal laughter.)

* * *

**ii - No Net To Catch You**

He didn't remember hitting the ground.

Taking a deep breath he pushed himself up from the soft floor, lifting his heavy head to survey his new location.

The world was black and featureless. He could only see himself, a small pool of light illuminating the area about his feet. What was this place?

"Welcome home."

He spun around to face who spoke. The faint outline of the fraud surfaced just beyond the ring of light. "What is this?" he questioned hurriedly. "Where am I?" He didn't care if he sounded panicked.

"Shh…" cooed the freak in the shadows. "All will be well. You merely have to remember."

"Remember? Remember what?" A cold sliver wormed down his back.

The false bounty hunter laughed lightly. "Your past," it replied simply. "Who you are. It's not hard, your memories are still there; you just have to reach out for them."

Amarant was sweating hard. But he couldn't remember! Everything always just stopped at that one memory. With the rain, and the…

"Do you need a little help?" questioned the shape-shifter. The dead eyes glimmered in the dark. "Maybe we should show you."

"No!" he shouted suddenly. He didn't want to know anymore. He felt better being left in the dark, but it was probably too late for that. "I don't want to remember! Leave me alone!"

"Foolish…"

There was a rush, and the light vanished. A dull red glow rose in its place, flooding everything in a foggy sheen of unhealthy scarlet from a hole in the obscenely black sky. The bounty hunter looked around feverishly, feeling not in the least bit safe. The far horizon was smoked with thin scarlet mist. Awkward stones rose from the watery earth at abused angles, blank slabs of grey interspersed with broken spires. He could feel himself sinking, literally. He looked to the ground. He was nearly up to his knees in the red gunk that made up this new prison. He began to struggle, hoping to unearth himself.

He nearly fell over in his frantic attempts. What the heck was this stuff? It was like mud, only… The 'ground' around him began to bubble thickly, admitting boney limbs to the air from deep within. Bodies swiftly followed after the uprooted arms, moaning and chattering all at once, grey and grievously malformed. "Aren't you going to greet your subjects?" cooed the freak behind him. Amarant struggled harder, finally freeing himself from the red mud. Slipping slightly, he made a run for it.

"You can't run!" Xio called after him.

He didn't care. He ran as fast as he could, the boney grey mutations shuffling stiffly after him.

The horizon was endless, with nothing but red and black and grey spanning out before him in every direction. It was awful, degrading, and hopeless.

He eventually slowed in exhaustion before a great slab of flat stone. He starred at the rock. There was something engraved on it. It was faint, but seemed to steadily become clear before his eyes, the ages of timeless dust falling away. He went impossibly white at the inscription left behind.

_Here lies our son,_

_Amarant Coral,_

_Who was taken from us_

_Well before his time._

_May he rest in peace _

_1956 - 1971_

He simply gawked. What the Hell was this? He wasn't dead! This thing said he died at the age of fifteen! He was thirty six!

"Now you see," said Xio.

He whirled to face the thing. "What bullshit is this?" he demanded. "You did this, didn't you? Dragged me to this freakish Hell-world for your amusement! What the Hell do you want from me?"

Xio kept a straight face. "I didn't do any of this." It's dead gaze narrowed dangerously. "You did."

Amarant could only choke on air. He looked from the freak to the tombstone, and back to Xio. "No… How could I…?"

It sneered at his confusion. "You're not Amarant Coral." It practically spat the name. "Haven't you realised that by now?"

The bounty hunter was grasping at straws. "This isn't real," he said softly, trying to convince himself against everything he had experienced thus far. "This is all just a hallucination. All I need is some therapy; then I'll never see you again."

The shape-shifter looked hurt. "How cruel of you to say such a thing, Master--"

"I'm NOT your Master!"

"Why would you want to forget me? Your good friend?"

"You're no friend of mine," he retorted defiantly.

The grey mob had surrounded them both. The figures were practically identical to the swarm that had chased him about the tunnels and mauled the brutal Chef.

"I want out of here."

Xio shook his head. "You can't leave."

"Oh yes I will. And you're going to get the Hell out of my way."

"You are delusional with the weakness of mortals, Master. Why won't you wake up?" it pleaded.

That fact that this freak was still using his body was freaking him out. He didn't like the awkward _expressions_ it was voicing through it, either. He never thought that his physique could pull off a sad-puppy stunt like that. "Stop calling me that."

"Why? It is your title."

Amarant shook his head, trying to somehow force all of this into non-existence by sheer willpower alone.

"I know now…" said the freak softly, dead eyes wide.

He looked up.

"What has made you so weak…" It cocked its head to one side unhealthily.

The bounty hunter could feel a distinct pin of cold fear sheering up his spine.

Xio's lips curled in a gross grin. "That ugly husk of flesh you cart upon your back. It is what clouds your mind, prevents you from remembering as you should." It brightened considerably. "_We will remove it for you, Master_," hissed the freak, its grin three times as wide as it was before, exposing an unnatural set of crooked canines stuffed about its jaw.

With an unseen signal, the army of grey forms began to advance on the bounty hunter. Amarant was sweating bullets, trying to find an escape route as the ring of hideous forms closed ever tighter about him. These things were going to pull him apart! The nearest reached for him, hissing low. Panic was the only thing occupying his badly battered brain. Where could he go? What could he do? He backed into the tombstone. His body was cold under the stifling layers of filth and rot that coated his skin and clothing. They were all so close… The hissing filled his ears, replacing the hum with unbridled ferocity.

No! He couldn't give up! Wouldn't give up! Screw these freaks, he was getting out of here! He lifted himself on top of the crumbling tombstone, launching his body over the crowd without a moment's hesitation.

He flew impossibly far, sailing over the heads of the grey beings effortlessly. Just a little bit further and he'd clear them… He landed just beyond the last of the creatures. Paying no heed to the screams of his already exhausted body he dashed in the most convenient of directions, forward. A hiss, deep and forlorn, rose behind him. He could tell without looking that the mass of things had given chase. To say the least, he ran for his life.

The gunk that made up the earth swiftly proved to be murder for traction. He nearly fell, slipping on the stuff beneath his feet. The grey things behind him were hardly phased, and thus were quickly gaining on him.

For the first time in Gods knew how long, Amarant felt the sting of fresh tears. Was his fear so great? His hopelessness so powerful? His despair so deep?

Yes.

The fear was genuine. The hopelessness as impregnable as stone. The despair darker than the greatest of shadows. It made him sick. It made him howl. It made his vision swim and narrow. He was going to die.

When he finally fell to the pulsing floor, he couldn't get up. No matter the influence of his fear or his willpower, he simply no longer had the strength. But still he tried to levy himself from the ground, praying to whatever was listening to let the horde of nightmares be farther away than he knew they were.

He was surrounded in seconds. The grey, mutilated bodies of the hissing creatures wove around him in a tight circle, touching him fleetingly with nailless fingers. "Go… away…" the man wheezed. Spit trundled from the sides of his mouth as he fought to wake his arms and force them to lift him from the ground back to his feet. "Leave me… alone…" He collapsed.

The beasts converged on him, each taking a fistful of hair, cloth, and skin. They began to yowl and chatter like crazed animals, pulling and tearing every which way with inhuman strength.

Amarant, despite the incredible pain, could not scream.

His clothing shredded. His skin tore. His bones broke. Everything was reduced to a shade of red, the shrieks drowning everything else in an unholy cacophony of chatter. Much of his hair was already gone, and somebody was pulling out his ribs.

When it was all over, the things stepped away from him. He couldn't feel anything, hear anything, see anything. But he knew he was dead.

- - -

When he finally woke up, it felt as though someone had beaten him over the head with a forge hammer.

With a groan Zidane hauled himself from the carpet, his mind and vision slowly coming clear. He managed to conclude that, aside from the prisoners in their cages, he was alone. Amarant was gone. He snapped to attention. Where was Amarant? His head was spinning. Before he had blacked out, he was sure he had seen _two_ of the bounty hunter. One had been especially filthy looking. Heh… as if just one of him wasn't enough. He heard someone call his name.

"Zidane! Zidane!"

The thief looked around to find the source of the soft call. After a few seconds, his sight fell upon a dishevelled Burmecian waving at him from one of the foremost cages. Was that… "Freya?" He ran over to her.

"Zidane! You're alive!" The Dragon Knight was close to tears.

He put his hands over hers on the cold bars. "Freya! What happened? To you! And… Where's Amarant?"

"Which one?"

He blinked stupidly. So… there _was_ a second redhead. The world must be coming to an end. "There… _is_… more than one?"

"Yes! One's a fake! A Doppelganger! He's the one that attacked us and brought us here!"

Zidane's mind was whirling at the speed of sound. "Where's the real Amarant, then?"

She shook her head. "He got dragged down with the copy. He tried to…" what? _Save_ him? She cast her emerald gaze to the floor. She wasn't telling him that. That man was the reason they were here… why those freaks brought them here. To lure that creep of an oaf to this horrible place. She silently wrung the bars. It was all very clear to her now… Her hatred for the bounty hunter indescribable.

Zidane passed a quick glance about the chamber. They needed to get out of here. "Freya, we need to get out. Are the others here?" He pulled out the pin in his cuff and began to pick the lock.

"I don't know…"

The tailed thief fought with the lock mechanism. It was proving to be incredibly stubborn.

There was a distant rumbling, the fleshy mound upon the wall beginning to pulse and squirm with steadily increasing violence. It sounded like something was coming.

Freya was panicked. Zidane picked the lock harder. "Come on come on…"

The Dragon Knight thought quickly. She stopped the former bandit. "Zidane! Hide!" she hissed urgently, grasping his hands in her calloused paws.

"But I can't just leave you here!" he hissed back.

"If you don't hide then none of us have a chance of getting free! Now go!"

The mound rumbled and rattled louder, releasing a nameless ooze all about the floor.

With once last uneasy glance to the hideous mound and to the helmetless Knight, Zidane dashed away into a shadowed corner, diving into a hiding spot just as the mound burst open like an infected sore. Translucent ooze and yellowed puss showered out from the hideous blemish, the flesh peeling open like a diseased and rotted flower. Revealed beneath the fleshy lips was a throbbing mound of twisted skin and bone, dribbling with a foul smelling mucus. The thief watched in horror as the exposed form trembled and unfurled, becoming impossibly large with every passing second. Within seconds a vaguely human torso emerged from the mess of goo and skin. Five arms, four badly deformed with extra joints or missing fingers, grew out of the body, three on its right and two on its left. The chest pulsed and expanded in a gross rhythm, almost giving it the appearance that it could simply burst open at any time. The waist dissolved into nothing but corded flesh, disappearing back into whatever depths laid behind the wall. A bald head with soft, brutalised features topped the horrific figure, peering out over the assembled cages with but one eye, the other lost under scarred skin. It wheezed through half a nose, grinning atop its nonexistent throne. It looked towards the doors of its chambers.

It clapped four of its five hands together. "_Children…_" it called.

Zidane remained where he was, hoping to keep himself as invisible as possible.

The massive doors swung open silently, admitting trampoline artists and white acrobats. They gathered in perfect order before the ugly thing, quiet and as still as stone. The white acrobats each held a writhing _thing_ of some kind. Zidane resisted the urge to crawl closer to get a better look. The beast birthed from the mound gazed over them all with pride from overtop the chasm that had become of its alter. "_Children… servants of Ego…_"

"Yesss Massssterrrr…" came the collective reply from the throng of masked performers.

"_The time has come… What we have so long yearned for has returned to us… Power is ours…_" It spread its multiple arms for emphasis.

"Yesss Masssterrr…"

"_The game has come to an end…_" It waved an arm over the assembled cages. "_Our victory is assured… Come… I have passed my Judgement upon these souls… Take them away to the Sunderer… Weigh them down with grief and despair… Let none ascend…_" With a sick sucking noise the hideous figure disappeared back into the hole in the wall, the fleshy lips closing over the wound seamlessly.

The performers, still locked in silence, marched about the chamber, taking hold of the cages by the heavy poles. The white acrobats brutally shoved the writhing and yowling forms into the vacant cages, joining their red and green clad brethren shortly thereafter. The thief watched helplessly as the cages were hauled from the ground and carried away, out into the expanse beyond the doors.

- - -

Eiko was speechless. For all her sharp wit, her willpower, her temper, she could think of nothing to say.

Kaada, the monster that dared to spin such lies, simply chuckled to itself, laughing at her misery. "Crrryyy morrrtal…" it taunted, "crrryyy harrrd and loud… Therrre isss nothing sssweeterrr than the wailsss of childrrren to my earrrsss…"

She finally burst. "You bastard!" she swore, tears streaming down her cheeks.

The thing laughed loud.

"Stop laughing!" She leapt from behind the fallen furniture, hands clenched into fists. "You'll pay for this you… you…"

"What am I, currr?…" hissed Kaada, taking a daring step forward. The fake Chef readied its blade from the corner of the pitiful shack. "What am I that could possssssibly be worrrssse than what yyyou werrre borrrn to be?…"

Eiko didn't have an answer. She was confused, hurt, defiant. It couldn't be true! It was a bunch of lies! The whole lot of it! This ugly jerk was just trying to get to her!

Finished with toying with the girl, Kaada whipped a skinny arm out, intent on throttling the Summoner to death.

The Chef's blade came out in a long swing, cleaving into the mauve limb as effortlessly as a hot knife through melted butter. The twisted creature shrieked as its right hand, with a fair amount of its lower arm, fell gracelessly to the ground. The severed appendage twitched and writhed on floor, making the blue haired girl back away. Before Kaada could recompose itself the fake butcher brought its weapon around for another blow, bringing it hard upon the violet body.

The cut was clean, from the top of the head all the way through. The halves slid against each other in slow motion, releasing an impossible amount of vital fluids upon the ground. The two pieces, one with the twisted frown, the other with the mutilated smile, came apart. But they did not collapse. The halves continued to stand of their own power on one leg each. Eiko retched and took shelter back behind the battered cabinet with the equally disturbed black mage.

A horrible laugh gurgled up from the sliced throats of the thing's cloven body. "Fool…" said the halves. "Yyyou believe yyyou can defeat me with sssuch a feeble attempt upon myyy life?… Ussselessssss…" Kaada's brutalised body parts swung about sickly, fleshy tendrils sprouted from what had once been on the inside of the creature's body, waving about haphazardly. The Chef backed away, growling and hissing. In a gross spray of orange and red, each half grew a second leg to semi complete its form. The pieces each leaned heavily to one side, the warped expressions glaring out from the faces fiercely. Kaada's halves began to shamble towards the Chef and the mages, gurgling merrily.

Vivi could only stare. With the creature torn in two, the true nature of its horrible form was revealed. One half, he noticed, was female, graciously curved and grinning. The other was heavily angled, frowning and clearly male. A mental image of the two high wire contortionists briefly flashed through his mind. Wait a minute… Kaada… Kad and Ada… They were one and the same!

"Vivi!"

He snapped out of his reverie. Eiko stood over him, the Queen staring off into space behind her.

"Come on! We gotta go!"

He got to his feet. The fake Chef was trying to fend off the split thing, swinging its cleaver left and right. Kaada's tendrils whipped at it from both sides, leaving long, ugly gashes about its body. With a pained grunt the butcher smacked both halves with the side of its weapon, making them stumble backwards. Taking this chance, the giant grabbed the three mages with its thick arms and made a break for freedom, ploughing through the back wall into the street beyond. Before the two halves of the vile creature could recuperate, the four were gone.

- - -

_It was warm and dark, just as it always was and will be. The walls thrummed with a constant beat unique only unto themselves. Happy in the dark It rolled about the cesspools with the other, weaker children, countless grey bodies rubbing and shifting against each other._

_But they all gave It a wide berth, for It was of a greater stock than them. It stood out amongst them, dark and sinuous where they were but grey and featureless. It was strong where they were weak, even stronger where they had strength; It was special, blessed. It knew so, It was born with that knowledge, and for good reason. It was the Heir, carrier of a greater Ego than any who had come before It. It was to be the successor, the new Master. The new Founder._

He knew the floor was cold, but he could not feel it.

_Because It was so important, It had to be protected, watched, at all times. The current Master declared it so. But what could possibly threaten It? There was nothing here for It to fear. There was no being greater than It, as far as It was concerned._

_A great yowl rose amongst the lesser children, making It look up from Its bed of ooze and mucus. Green eyes glimmered as It searched for the source of the sound. A light, bright and alien, wove about the back of the dark cavern. What was this? There was never light here. As the light neared It could see the lesser children, Its brothers and sisters, being thrown into the air like rags. Such abuse! It stood up, ready to defend Its siblings, tooth and nail._

He pushed himself off what he was sure to be the ground. He could not see. Standing, he swayed in place, feeling off-balance. What happened? Why did he feel so different? He tried to put a hand to his head, but could not tell if he had succeeded. Was he even moving? He wished he could see. He wished he could feel.

_The light was blinding. It couldn't bear to look at it, it was so bright. But it wasn't just a light, it was seven lights, all moving and swaying by themselves. There was something in each light, but It could not tell what they were. Where they shape-shifters like It? No. They didn't carry the Master's thrum. These lights were a threat, they were harming everything they touched. Why? The seven lights surrounded It._

What was he to do? He couldn't see or feel. Could he even hear? As far as he could tell, there was no sound to be heard.

_They were speaking. The lights' words were foreign. "Is this it, Barbos?" hissed one. "Shall we skin it?"_

"_We need it alive," said another._

"_Too bad…" The light reached for it with what looked like a hand._

"_Careful, Kaada, it bites," hissed one._

_The Heir snapped at the appendage. No-one assaulted its siblings and was allowed to get away! These intruders would all be punished for their transgression! It bit hard. It tasted blood._

_The light being yanked its hand away. "Gah! Damn little beast!" The light kicked It back._

_The seven lights, with their black eyes and featureless forms, attacked It. It was enraged. Nothing dared to harm It! Nothing! It fought back, relentless, an amorphous figure of glittering black slithering and bending against the oppressive whiteness. But It could not fight properly, not with the light blinding its sensitive eyes so fiercely. The seven attackers threw something over It, restricting Its movement. What was this? It began to scream, a horrible squealing sound that rang throughout the Nursery. The lights seemed to laugh at Its distress and pain._

_The pulsing walls shook and rumbled. The Master, the Founder, would save It._

Maybe he could walk. He tried to rub a foot against the ground, hoping to gain some sort of clue to what he could be standing on. Nothing. Not even a tingle to signify so much as the floor's texture. Everything was as sensitive as dead wood.

Where was he?

The fact that there was simply nothing surrounding him was threatening to make him scream for all his worth, but he doubted he could even do that.

_The seven lights hefted It from the comforting ground, steadily rising against the force of the floor's pull. The Heir writhed in its sack of a prison. It could not break the bonds, nor could it squeeze through its innumerable holes. With a flash the seven light beings blew a monstrous hole in the Nursery's roof, ascending though it to the upper levels of the Master's Fortress above. It continued to shriek. It didn't want to be removed from where It belonged!_

_Larger shape-shifters, the Master's closest servants, threw themselves at the seven lights. "Kaada! Get out of the way!" shouted one of the beings. The behemoth shape-shifters bit and pulled, succeeding in wrenching away two of the beings, dragging them away into darkness to serve for their punishment. How those lights shrieked and wailed, unwilling to pay for the crime that they and their brethren had committed against the Master. "Promise me!" shouted one of the doomed beings. "Promise me that you will break the mirror!"_

A loud hiss sounded from somewhere. He was so relieved! He concentrated on the sound. Where was it coming from? He listened carefully. The noise faded. No! Come back!

It rose again, fading just like before, only to come back. Like the breath of a giant. It was coming from somewhere in front of him, and he wanted nothing more than to find the source of the sound. He willed himself to move, slowly, slowly making for the only comfort in his darkness.

_There were now only five of the lawless lights. It struggled and wriggled in the net, hoping to slow their ascent through Its creator's home. A thousand holes were punched into a thousand floors of the Fortress of Ego. The greater shape-shifters were on the assailant's heels, snapping and screaming at them. But they were loosing ground. The lights were too fast for them._

_With one last blast the lights emerged from the Fortress in a shower of rock and metal, rising where the chasing shape-shifters could not follow. It could see the entirety of the Founder's Fortress now. How magnificent it was! Beautiful! Without compare! Still Its captors rose, higher and higher. Nothing could go so high! It was impossible! An ugly oval of silvery material appeared before Its escaping tormentors, ringed with gold and brass._

_There was a great woosh, and they were all sucked into the hideous reflective void behind the flat sheet. Colours flew and shifted all around them. The Heir didn't like it. Briefly, It saw a great hallway, with columns of rock spreading in all directions. Next, a white chamber, with a great, dark beast standing before a set of red doors._

He was getting close. The sound seemed to shift. He stopped and stood still. It was coming from his left now. With his single goal still burning in his mind he restarted his blind trek.

_It was writhing and struggling hard, making the five lights fight to keep It aloft. It would get free! And It would punish these insolent creatures Itself! With a violent squirm It tore the incapacitating net at long last. It spilled out, spreading Itself over the nearest of the lights in vengeance. The thing shrieked and fell away from the others as It wrapped Itself over the light's wings. There was a shattering sound as they broke through the swirling vortex's boundary, making it disappear, dissolving into a canvas of green, blue and grey. They both fell, down, down until they hit the solid of the green with a great wave of harsh silence._

_It rolled away, glaring up at Its harasser. The light stood up as well, bringing forth out of the air a long blade._

The breathing noise was so close. It was almost deafening.

But he didn't stop. No, he wanted to find what was making the noise.

_It leapt. The light lunged. The weapon of Its enemy cut into It. How the wound burned! But It didn't care. All that mattered was Its revenge. No mere sword would deter It from Its goal. Worming and writhing It forced the light being to the blasted, smoking ground. Without pause It clamped Its jaws about Its foe's glowing throat, tearing it out with hardly a tweak of Its neck. Bright lifeblood gushed forth from the wound, the light instantly fading, letting the Heir see Its foe for the first time. Just what it was, the shape-shifter could not tell. It wasn't malformed like the creatures It was so used to seeing. Strange, thin strands grew out of its head, spread over the ground. Soft scales of some kind grew all about its wings, soft and light to the touch._

_And the taste… It swallowed what it had torn. Exquisite! Its hunger demanding more, It snapped and bit at the former light being's make, tearing strip after strip of pale flesh from the body. Soon, only bones and the strange soft scales were left. Full, It slithered away as the grey sky above It cracked open and began to cry._

Still the darkness surrounded him. Still he could feeling nothing. How close was he? How far had he gone?

_It was lost. Lost and tired. Tired and cold. It had no idea of how long It had been in this new land. A great darkness had swept above it, followed by a blinding light, many times. Much of Its great strength was gone. But why, It could not fathom. Its power was not yet infinite, like that of Its Master._

_It stopped before a stripe of red in the green. Tiny red pebbles covered the slender blades of green in a wide, straight line. What was this? Was it a path? A high sound reached Its fine ears. It poked Its dark, sinuous head out from the cover of the tall wild green. Its sharp eyes caught sight of a creature, tall and clothed, stepping along the red stones. The thing's skin was pale, its hair a blazing shade of scarlet. It looked young. Young and defenceless. It wriggled in joy. This strange thing would give It what It needed to survive here until Its Master came for It. Taking careful note of the creature's features a second time, the Heir laid Itself on the cold ground, Its form shifting and moulding into something new, different._

_It waited._

He stopped. He swore that the source of the sound was right in front of him. He tried to look about him, but still only darkness swam before his eyes. What he wouldn't give to see… to feel again…

"_Would you give your acquired innocence?_"

_The creature stopped before It. Still It remained motionless. It felt a hand turn it over. The thing gasped at what it saw. The Heir opened Its eyes and sprung from the ground, bowling the thing to the ground. How it yelled and squealed! Of course, the creature would not stay still, would not let It take its place. The thing fought back kicking and biting. Still unfamiliar with the form It had taken, the shape-shifter was having trouble subduing Its prey. The sky was crying, making the earth below slick and treacherous._

_The pale creature smacked It with something hard. It could feel a tooth fly out from Its jaws. The pain that followed was terrible. How dare this swine! It grabbed a fistful of the red hair with the same hands that had turned Its body in the short green blades and pulled. Its target howled beneath It, trying to push It away. Wasting no time, It wrapped a second hand about the throat. With a squeeze It silenced the thing, steadily applying pressure._

A voice! He had heard a voice! It sounded familiar! He would give anything to see--!

"_Would you give your acquired innocence?_"

What? He thought hard. Acquired… what? What innocence?

"_Your shell, your self-imposed blindness and numbness. Tell me, would you give it to regain it all?_"

Who… are you? He wanted to speak, to answer, but he couldn't even give out a hiss.

_The thing stared up at It with watering eyes of emerald green, questioning It, begging for mercy. It did no such favour. It increased the squeeze over Its prey's throat. The creature should be happy, It was doing it an honour by taking its place. This thing should be humbled and give It its body willingly. At last the pale thing's breath hitched and ceased._

_It released the corpse. Now, It would complete the ritual that would preserve Its body here. It devoured all It could reach, leaving nothing but bones and scraps. A wisp, that only It could see, rose up from the bloody body, shimmering in the wet air. This was it. With a huff the Heir sucked the wisp into Its mouth, swallowing it, making it a part of It. The world about It sharpened. Names came to It, terms, facts. The sky was raining, not crying. This thick line of pebbles was a path connecting two villages. The soft blades upon the ground were wild grass. This world was called 'Gaia'._

_Its tooth, the one It had lost in the struggle, gleamed in the dirt. The Heir picked it up, looking at it through new eyes. It would keep it. This fang, as a reminder. The Heir grinned in the rain, peering at the brutalised body of the thing whose place It had taken. Only now, It had a new name. The name of Its prey._

_It's name was--_

He wanted to answer! What could he do to voice his wants?

"_Don't despair so. You have to but will it. To see. To feel. It will all return to you if you merely wish it. With its return your innocence will be no more. Choose. Which will you harbour?_"

He somehow felt as though what would come was undesirable for some reason. Why? What did he have to lose?

He chose.

The world flared, coming to instant life. Amarant fell to the ground, covering his stinging eyes. With the return of his vision, his touch, his speech, came something else. The chasm in his mind yawned wide, the fog billowing forward in a Hellish tidal wave, leaving nothing untouched. The hum exploded, filling his head with nothing but the constant thrum. Amongst it all unbidden images flew across his inner sight, telling everything he never wanted and always wanted to know.

_Its name was Amarant Coral._

He pulled his hands away from his face. He stared at his hands. Claws replaced the blue digits he was so sure had been his, threads of red and violet interwove in a sea of corded black. This… this was his body? His real body? He stood up on clawed feet. No! He started to panic, looking over himself in mounting horror. His clothes were tattered and nearly non-existent. His flesh was torn, revealing a black, corded substance beneath the layers of red muscle and white broken bone. The floor was bloody with small pools left behind from his passing. Falling to his knees he stared at the ground. This couldn't be real… He felt at his form, trying to somehow find a loophole in this new illusion. His groping hands felt only bleeding sores, alien skin, empty veins. Nearly all of his dreadlocks were gone, leaving nearly nothing left. He suddenly dug about in his pocket, bringing out the beast fang he had nearly lost the morning before. Its length was nearly the width of his wrist. The tooth, white and still impossibly sharp, hung from its chain from the metal cap that had long since been placed over the shattered roots. This tooth… was his own? His hands falling to his sides he tipped slightly and collapsed to the ground, utterly lost and confused. What cruel joke was this?

And what of the voice? He angled his suffering vision upwards. He could sense an incredible presence before him. Briefly, he could see two scarlet limbs thicker than the bodies of dragons, tipped with claws wider then he was tall. A thin line of wet, shimmering spit was polling on the floor, stringing from higher, much higher up. He only just caught the hideous view of a wide, red, lipless maw populated with humongous teeth as a curtain of black swept his sight, blocking the monster grin away. A low laugh sounded from nowhere and everywhere at once.

What the heck was that?

The blackness fell away, but the giant figure was gone. His watering sight shifted from the air to fall upon a much smaller figure standing not too far ahead of him. There stood the child that had haunted him relentlessly for the past day and who knows how much longer. He jumped back onto his feet, breathing hard. The child made no move towards him, staring at the tattered man with a bottomless gaze of green. But the sneer that played across the drawn face was terrible, boring a hole into him. It frightened him. Was it all… true, then? He shook his head. No, it couldn't be true. He was dreaming! This was just a nightmare! He turned and made to run. He stopped cold. The child was yet again in front of him, only this time with an equally unsettling grin spread over its face. The eyes were a bloody red. He looked back, the child was there was well, glaring at him through green eyes. His panicking vision flew between the two several times.

"_Afraid?_"

He spun to look at the red eyed child. The voice! The voice that had spoken to him in the dark! He recognised it now… It was… his own?

The child laughed at him. "_Your fear is amusing…_"

"Who…" He continued to glance back and forth between the two children. "Who are you?" he questioned, trying desperately to figure this out. Were they the same child? Or were they different?

"_Which? Can you truly not tell?_" mocked the child in his voice. It gestured with a nod, its grin still disturbingly wide. "_Green eyes there… Is you. …And so am I._"

Amarant couldn't take this. It was all madness! "You're lying," he said stupidly, still passing panicked glances from one phantom to the other.

The red eyed child snorted. "_You still deny everything that you have witnessed? How pitiful._"

"Who are you!" he demanded again, shaking from emotional exertion. He was going mad; crazy.

"_I am Ego_," replied the red eyed child. The green eyed youth said nothing. "_And he… is Ignorance_. _He's the life you took, essentially, to preserve your own. Your… 'Humanity'._" None of this was sinking in. "_Why don't you recognise us?_"

"I don't know you…" he said simply, looking crazed. "You're all illusions! Made by that freak, Xio! You're not real!"

The green eyed child hissed threateningly. Ego just grinned. "_Are we? Look closer, and you will see… We are what makes you, what shapes you… Heir._"

"No!" He clutched at what remained of his ears. "I'm no heir! I'm human! I'm… I'm…"

"_What?_" questioned the red eyed figure seriously. "_What are you? Tell us… we would love to know._" Ignorance hissed a second time, looking all the more unpleasant.

"I… I…" He couldn't shape words, he couldn't order his thoughts. He was a man! He was a bounty hunter! He was the Flaming Amarant!

Ignorance shrieked, covering its ears. It leaped towards the stricken man, sharp nails out, teeth bared. "_GIVE ME BACK ME SKIN!_" It landed squarely on him, knocking him over with impossible ease, biting and tearing.

Darkness enveloped everything. Amarant struggled against the closing shadow with all that was left of his strength, beating at the air with his mutilated fists. The atmosphere thinned, making him feel as though he was being dredged up from a pit of tar.

"So now you wake, Master."

The giant groaned miserably and lifted his head painfully from the ground. He blinked repeatedly to clear his suffering vision. The field of red sludge and grey tombstones spanned out before him. Had he been… asleep? Wait… he remembered now. The grey forms of the featureless blobs squatted all around him, hissing and chattering. "Mmmaaasssttteeerrr…" they all chanted, he noticed with a queasy eye that their fingers were tipped with wet, fresh red. Why was the chant so clear all of a sudden? Xio, the circus freak, stood beyond them, still in his shell.

"How do you feel?" questioned the thing.

He got shakily to his feet. A million thoughts were twirling about his brain. The unwelcome flashes of the unfavourable conversation in the dark played before his vision in a mocking dance. He tried to ignore them. "…I want out of here."

- - -

The old Pluto Captain was puzzled. The mirror was huge, easily a few feet taller than he was. It rested on the ground by itself, gleaming under its own light. He dared not to touch it.

Outside, a few of the lesser Knights stood alone, clearing their senses of the infernal stink within the tent. One straightened. "Halt! Who goes there!" he called out, making those around him draw their swords.

A figure, dressed in expensive scarlet robes, advanced out of the darkness, hands in the air as a show of peace. "Please, do not be alarmed," said the man, grinning from behind long locks of yellow hair. "I am but a commoner, and have no intension of causing trouble to you good Knights." The man's speech was like silk, hypnotising the armoured men to lower their weapons.

"Who are you?" questioned the Knight that had spoken first, sheathing his sword. "What business do you have here?"

The blonde man smiled with thin lips. "I am looking for something dear to my heart, good Knight, that has been… stolen… from me. Perhaps you could aid me in finding it?"

The silver clad youth peered at him suspiciously. "…What have you lost, sir?"

The smile widened. A gleam shone in the stranger's orange stare. "Something most _precious_ to me… a mirror."

* * *

A/N: Hopefully this chapter hasn't instilled hatred amongst the fans of the Flaming Badass. I mean no ill! Don't hurt me! Amarant rocks my socks. That's why this came into existence. Also because my mind works in twisted circles... apparently.

Anyway, because I'm hoping that I'm not being dispised by every other FFIX fan on the net, here's a small snippet from the upcoming chapter "And The Wheel Turns". See you all in another gruling fourteen days. This isn't over yet; not by a long shot.

* * *

The assembled shifters shrieked and lunged at the startled monster, going for what they could reach; the legs. The freak wailed in fear and agony as its misshapen limbs were reduced to splinters. The body fell from its high position to the floor with hardly a crash. Hissing and spitting the shape-shifters, hypnotised by the bounty hunter's will, converged on it and began to tear it to pieces. The creature continued to scream and wail as its body was destroyed one strip at a time.

As the beast cried for mercy Amarant clutched at his head, forcing the anger and aggression from his clouded mind. This wasn't him! He wasn't a monster! Unable to think of any better course of action, he ran. He didn't look back, hoping that displacing himself from the violence he had created would restore his mind to the way it should have been.

As heartless as he may be on any given day, he wasn't that cruel…

The shrieks never seemed to fade completely, ringing throughout the entirely of the ugly dimension he had been trapped in. At wasn't until nearly a minute later that the thing's wails finally stopped; cut off abruptly as if someone had suddenly cast a silencing incantation. He finally stopped running.

* * *


	14. P4: iii

Disclaimers: Zidane and his cruising hipsters all belong to Squaresoft and Enix.

But everything else, including the waves of chaotic confusion, are mine.

* * *

**iii - And The Wheel Turns**

Zidane didn't know what to do. Freya, and the others most likely, had been taken away by the masked performers. He had to save them! And what of Garnet? He hoped to the highest power he knew that she was alright. Above all, he had to save her.

He got up and started running for the doors, not caring if the thing in the mound would notice him. The Queen was in danger, and he would be the one to make it all right. He would be her hero once again, and he would never again leave.

- - -

The ride was more than a little bumpy. The three mages clung to the butcher for dear life to keep from falling despite the creature's awesome grip. The freak, Kaada, wasn't following, as far as they could tell. The giant was badly wounded from the fight, and wouldn't be able to keep running like this forever. But it kept going, bent on the order given to it by the new Master Itself. It would fulfill Its decree, even if doing so cost it its life.

- - -

The masked performers brought them all into a new, wide chamber. The heat within was terrible, it made the Burmecian sweat. At the room's very back sat a hideous machine adorned with countless blades and spearheads that curled like wicked fingers. Clear tubes jutted out from the surface, running out into the shadows above and around it. What mockery of innovation was this?

One by one the collection of cages was set on the cold ground; and one by one the folk trapped within began to wail and shriek. The noise was deafening.

With a loud chugging noise the machine before them jumped to life, its seams glowing with a sourceless light. The blades and fingers shifted about, moving to expose the contraption's mouth. The plates of metal yawned wide, revealing a horde of spinning cogs and threads of silver interwoven about the chaos. One of the performers removed a screaming captive from their cage, a fellow Burmecian. He kicked and screamed as hard as he could but to avail. His captor held him by the neck, carrying him towards the mouth of the machine.

The construction reached out for the grey furred being with its deadly fingers, plucking him from the performer's grasp. The Burmecian was shoved bodily into the gaping maw of the machine, closing him in before he could so much as make for the exit. There was another chug, and a long string of churning noises emanated from the bowls of the metal beast, silencing the screams within. Something dark swilled through the clear tubes growing from the contraption's bulk. With a hiss the machine fell silent. The mouth opened, and its captive was thrown out.

Freya gawked at what she saw, her eyes watering. The Burmecian male, was hardly a shadow of what he had been when he went in. His body looked as though it were made entirely of charcoal, his skin, devoid of fur, stretched unnaturally over what remained of his skeleton. With a moan he began to shamble about, shaking and chattering. Reaching a random cage he hissed and reached inside the bars for the unfortunate soul contained within, grasping at them and pulling at their clothes, trying to bite them. The masked creatures hissed and swung at him, violently shoving him from the cages and towards the exit. Groaning and hissing he limped away, with no flicker of life or recognition of what had just transpired.

Was this what awaited them all? Freya couldn't wrap her head around it. Already a second prisoner was being fed to the machine.

Unable to take it anymore, she too, broke down on her knees and began to wail.

- - -

Xio's expression was close to absolute confusion. "…Master?" It took a tentative step towards the shaking figure.

"Get away from me!" shouted Amarant crazily, pointing.

The shape-shifter was dumbfounded. "What? Master!--"

"I'm not your fricking master!" he shrieked, clutching at his abominable sores.

"But we rid you of your shell!" insisted Xio, looking panicked. "Why won't you come back to us?"

"Shut the Hell up, dammit! I'm getting the frig out of here and taking everyone else you've tormented with me!" He held his head, trying to subdue the incredible ache that had built there.

The monster's smoky gaze darkened dangerously. "…Of course… I see now…" Amarant looked up suspiciously as it took a few steps away, sneering in a most vile manner. "Those mortals have permanently soiled your mind, Master. You believe you are one of them. How shameful." Its skin started to bubble and crawl, slowly making everything meld together. "This is a transgression against our people we will not tolerate nor forgive. All who have associated with you and thus made you into the delusional creature you are now will pay with their very lives and souls." The freakish quadruped from the circus stood before him, drooling like a broken faucet. The brutalised redhead watched with mounting apprehension.

A white glare that blared out from the sockets replaced the dead sheen that had formerly taken residence in the freak's eyes. It stared at the torn man in obsession and feverish malicious intent. "But first, broken sibling of mine, you will be recycled back into the Founder's body and a new heir will be formed. Your weakness will not be accepted upon our throne." The thing's body seemed to suddenly grow. The malformed legs stretched impossibly, raising the creature high over the ground. "_You will die, Heir_."

Amarant went white with both levels of his supposed skin. He was still trying to piece together the shattered shards of his psyche, but the fact that Xio was going to actually kill him now was scattering his thoughts something fierce. Why was this happening to him?

Xio's misshapen flesh bubbled and sputtered in anticipation. "_I knew you would be of no use… And now I get the pleasure of rending your body to pieces. The true Master of this place will be most pleased._"

The redhead doubled over in pain, the hum exploding from inside his head. The voice, his voice, rang in his head with a volume that didn't need to be as obnoxious as it was. The words forced themselves through his mouth. "_How dare you…_" he said to the thing, "_to deny me what is mine. A creature of filth can do nothing to stop me from claiming what was mine well be fore you were even released from the Master's body!_" He tried to silence the string of words, but alien _enjoyment_ of grinding Xio into the dirt was just too good. After all, it was this asshole that dragged him here, away from everything he claimed he knew. He stood up, grinning wide with a streak of sadism he never thought he could possess. It frightened him.

Xio seemed to stagger in its resolve with the exposure of this new side of the man.

The ruined bounty hunter glared up at the freak. "_The only one who will be torn to pieces is you, dear sibling…_" He shook his head, trying to clear away the alien aggression that had flooded over his conscious. Never in all his years of being a lawless bastard pouncing on the scum of humanity did he ever feel so prone to violence, any sense of empathy, no matter how small, he might have had was gone. All that mattered was that Xio suffered, and suffered _hard_. The fog deepened, blurring everything into a suffocating scheme of grey and red. He could _feel_ the minds of the grey blobs surrounding him. Their limited attention and intelligence was focussed on one thing and one thing only. Him. With a snarl that could only be counted as that of an animal, he put that single-mindedness to use. "_Kill it_."

The assembled shifters shrieked and lunged at the startled Xio, going for what they could reach; the legs. The circus freak wailed in fear and agony as its misshapen legs were reduced to splinters. The body fell from its high position to the floor with hardly a crash. Hissing and spitting the shape-shifters, hypnotised by the bounty hunter's will, converged on it and began to tear it to pieces. Xio continued to scream and wail as its body was destroyed one strip at a time.

As the beast cried for mercy Amarant clutched at his head, forcing the anger and aggression from his clouded mind. This wasn't him, he wasn't a monster! Unable to think of any better course of action, he ran. He didn't look back, hoping that displacing himself from the violence he had created would restore his mind to the way it should have been.

As heartless as he may be on any given day, he wasn't that cruel…

The shrieks never seemed to fade completely, ringing throughout the entirely of the ugly dimension he had been trapped in. At wasn't until nearly a minute later that Xio's wails finally stopped; cut off abruptly as if someone had suddenly cast a silencing incantation. He finally stopped running.

Alone, he gave himself another once-over. He couldn't help but cringe. His body was still in brutalised tatters, hardly the shadow of what he had been. Was there no way to possibly restore what he had but moments ago? _Ah, but you brought this upon yourself, Amarant old boy…_ He stared at his hands. _This was what you wanted, wasn't it? To know who you really were under all that disproportionate flesh…_ His hands clenched into fists. _Well… now you know. The only one you can blame is yourself… No-one can carry such a burden other than you…_

It made him angry, furious, that he had just thrown away everything he had ever possessed through the unwitting act of, dare he say, self-discovery?

And just what… would he say to the others? 'Oh, I'm sorry to break it to you, but I'm not even remotely human. I'm an enemy of mankind, pleased to meet you.' Feh. They'd pounce on him in a split second.

Distant hisses of worship materialised out of the shadows behind him, signalling the approach of the grey army. He didn't bother to run. They wouldn't, couldn't hurt him. Amongst them, he was invincible. The lesser shape-shifters gathered around him, hissing and chattering softly. Some lifted their hands up to him to show the man that they had done his bidding, their slender fingers dribbling with yellow blood and gore. Others clung to what remained of his clothing, still more pushing and shoving lightly to get as close to him as possible.

In some renewed portion of his battered brain he felt… at home. Happy… somehow. After twenty years of wandering Gaia's surface in search of a place to belong, had he finally found what he wanted? A place where he could remain and not be singled out for his appearance and unknown heritage?

_Yes…_

He touched the heads of the creatures closest to him, making them squeal with affection. The fog melded into his thoughts like a mist dissolving amongst the grass, becoming all that mattered. The haze threatened to push everything he had ever known right out the window, into the black abyss that had once held it still and silent for many years.

He couldn't let that happen!

The haze cleared. Though he knew now that he was far from human, which didn't entirely surprise him, once he thought about it; but the life he had lead before now was still very much a part of him. He couldn't just drop everything and go with this new flow. He was still Amarant Coral as far as he was concerned, and he intended to make it last. He needed a way back to the surface, back to the others. But he couldn't let them see him like this. If they found him in this state they would end his miserable existence under the pretence that he was a zombie. No, he had to hide the insane injuries he had just acquired. He had to rebuild his skin.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind that a sickening feeling, like moss growing at the speed of sound, crawled over his body. It nearly made him retch. A mild wash of dizziness came over him and was gone. Staggering slightly he put a hand to his head, startled to find that his fingers were no longer clawed, his arms torn, his clothes tattered, nor his head so bald. What the heck just happened? Figuring it would be best not to question it, he set his mind on finding an exit.

- - -

The thief was still running. He had only a hint of an idea of where the circus freaks took Freya and the others, but it was the only lead he had.

He skidded to a halt and dove behind a pillar of onyx.

A charred husk of a former Burmecian shambled past him, groaning and spitting. Not too far behind it, was another blackened form, this one possibly human. And still another was behind it. They seemed to all be coming from the same direction. Perhaps wherever they were coming from was where the rest of the folk were? It was a gamble at best, but he had nothing better to go off of. Keeping close to the shadows, he slinked off down the infinite hallway, following against the line of burned and beaten bodies.

- - -

Twenty of the captives had been fed to the machine, and still more were being prepared. Freya was now third in line, with the traumatised Buemecian youth she had tried to speak to earlier still in front of her, rocking back and forth. She clutched at her ring of engagement in silent prayer, hoping that somehow, her lover would hear her last thoughts.

A horrible shriek went up at the back of the line, louder than all the wails of the frightened folk combined. The circus performers stopped in their task to see what the commotion was. As quick as lightning, a blonde, tailed figure shot into the chamber, followed by several of the transformed folk. Zidane leapt about the cages, trying to shake off his pursuers. The charred figures shambled after him as quickly as they could, knocking into everything in sight, raising a Hellish racket. The performers began to shriek and shout in their ugly native tongue, dropping their current chore to deal with the break in. The blackened forms turned on the freaks, moaning and biting.

The thief landed lightly before her cage. "Zidane!"

"Yo," wheezed the blonde, clearly out of breath. "Didn't think I would be spotted, but those weirdoes have better sight than you'd think." He began to pick the Knight's lock with the pin of his cuff for the second time.

Freya kept watch as he worked, hoping that no-one would notice amongst all the commotion. A snap signified long-awaited success. Wasting no time, she crawled out of her prison. "What about the others?" she questioned quickly, getting to her aching feet.

Zidane looked torn. "There's so many of them, there's no way I can pick all these before our good pals here notice what's going on."

No sooner than he has finished his sentence, one of the trampoline artists spotted them outside their prisons. It pointed and hissed angrily, making everyone else take notice.

Zidane went pale. "Ooh, jig's up," he said, looking anything but ready to make another un for his life. Amongst the angry hisses wails for freedom had risen amongst the other captives, some even gripping at the heroes in hopes of making them free them as well. Try as they might, the two could not shake off the panicked hands that gripped them.

"Its seems as though we're, as you would say, 'dead meat'," commented the Burmecian, a weary grin on her lips.

"Yeah, I guess so," agreed Zidane. The circus performers advanced on them, the charred figures rolling and whining about the floors from their punishment.

Just as it seemed as though it couldn't get any worse, a tremor shook the chamber, bringing everyone who wasn't already on their knees to the floor.

Zidane and Freya collapsed, looking up from the cold ground just in time to see the side wall literally explode outwards, admitting a hideous stream of grey, mutated forms into the room. The featureless things, hissing and screaming, washed over the former entertainers, tearing them to pieces.

"Get up off your asses," came a voice behind them.

The two twisted around on the floor, gawping at what they saw.

"What's the matter, Tribal? Don't understand English?"

"Amarant?" exclaimed the thief, jumping to his feet. "Is it really you?" he questioned carefully, peering at the messy giant suspiciously.

"If I wasn't, do you think you'd be standing right now?" retorted the man, pulling the bewildered Dragon Knight to her feet. "Here." He passed the two of them weapons, a black, red-veined pike to the lady Knight, and a set of dark knives for the thief. "Use these, they should break the locks on the cages without any trouble." He turned to one of the prisons himself and yanked the door off with a vicious pull.

Lost for words, the two did as they were told, sheering the locks from the remaining cages as the chaos continued in the back. The freed folk crawled hastily from their metal cages, keeping close to their benefactors. With the combined efforts of the three heroes the remaining prisoners were set free in moments. Amarant turned to the crowd. "Follow me, I know the way out of here!" he called to them starting for the doors of the room at a quick pace. The starved and terrified people didn't need to be told twice, following after the disproportionate man in haste.

With one last glance at the carnage behind them, Zidane and Freya dashed after the receding crowd, weapons in hand.

They all followed in silence, keeping together. The thief and the Dragon Knight kept to the back, making sure that none got left behind. More than a hundred and fifty escapees ran between them and the giant that had somehow, against all odds, returned from whatever trouble he had gotten into before to save their hides. It seemed strange to Zidane. Something was out of place, he couldn't place what. But he kept quiet.

What if this was the fake Freya had warned him about? What if the real Amarant was dead? No… this had to be the real deal, why would the fake undo its fellow villains' work?

Meanwhile, Freya was doing some pondering of her own. Without her helmet, she couldn't hide the scowl that threatened to overtake her face. So, the bounty hunter had come back. She wrung her hands on the weapon he had given her. Her anger towards him was still immense; all this chaos was his fault! But she couldn't do anything about that right now. She would have to wait. Wait and see.

The swarm of folk reached the front doors of the horrible fortress, which opened for them all of its own accord. The world beyond was dark, the day long since come to an end. Faint spotlights danced along the ground. Were these watch lights? The thief was sure they would never get past them without being spotted, not with a walking caravan this big. Much to his surprise, and even more to his suspicion, the faint spots of light veered purposefully away from the tall, iron gates that stood between them and the city beyond. These, too, opened of their own free will, allowing them all escape from the terrors of the fortress.

Zidane's brain was whirling. This was all just too convenient to be true. Something was not right. The dash continued through the streets, none daring to slow down, lest they run in to one of the burned husks of human life that had threatened them all earlier. The thief kept a sharp eye out for anything that could spell trouble, searching the shadows deepening all about them.

Fleetingly, he caught sight of a grey form, much like the ones that had swarmed the chamber with the machine, darting between the buildings, following their path. They were being followed! He looked in the opposite direction, hoping that it was just an anomaly. Sure enough, his sharp sight spotted even more of the grey things, drifting between the makeshift homes alongside them, keeping a perfect speed. Were there any behind them as well? He chanced a brief glance. Thick shadows played behind them, obscuring his view. Perhaps by trick of the fading light, or the unbalanced panic of his own brain, he swore he could just make out an _army_ of the grey things scuttling after them, neither gaining nor falling behind.

He felt anything but hopeful for their successful escape. They were going to be caught and mauled to death.

Should he say something? He could be seeing things… he might not. He didn't want to cause a panic, but he didn't want to let the entire operation fall to pieces because he kept to himself.

With an odd compulsion to stay quiet nagging at his brain, he remained silent.

- - -

It was dark, and the Chef could no longer run. It set the three mages on the ground, wheezing slightly.

Eiko and Vivi huddled together in the gloom, keeping close to the traumatised Queen.

The little Summoner was silent, unable to say a word. Was what that freak had told her true? Was her people… a damned breed? No, it couldn't be. The Summoners were a tribe who worshiped and respected all forms of life, they would do nothing to harm anyone…

Vivi shrieked and pointed to their right. Between the buildings that surrounded them on all sides, a lopsided figure shambled towards them with an uneven gait. It was Kaada… one half of Kaada to be precise. The giant butcher drew its weapon. Where was the other half?

Eiko gave a quick glance to their left, finding, much to her dismay, the second half of their harasser, making for them. Too tired to make another run for it, the four stood their ground. The Chef was badly wounded and beaten already, how it would fare against the freak of nature a second time the two child mages could only guess.

The Chef wasted no time. It leapt for the nearest of the halves, cleaver held high. With a heavy blow it knocked the body to the ground, blade deep inside the mutilated figure. Pulling its weapon free it began to repeatedly stab the thing. Kaada's first half didn't stay still, smacking the creature with its whip-like tendrils relentlessly.

The mages huddled close together. Gore flew out of the right alley in sprays and chunks, painting the immediate area in orange and yellow.

Amongst all this, the second half of the horror was still making for the children and the Queen, intent on fulfilling its mission.

The Chef stood up as the first half was at last vanquished. Only one remained now. It was sore and badly wounded, but it had to keep its Master's word. With a loud bellow it threw itself at the remaining half of its enemy. All resistors to the Heir's ascension would be punished with the loss of their lives.

- - -

They were nearing the outer walls of the city. The settlement, 'Mis', was massive in every sense of the word. As its population grew, so did the city. With every passing millennia a new ring of buildings would be crafted to house the temporary inhabitants, completed only with yet another wall to seal them all in, and keep anything unwanted out. With information like this and plenty else showering through his mind at a rate that was almost unbearable, Amarant kept his pace, with the sole goal of getting all these people out of here as quickly as possible. All this commotion wasn't going to be left undealt with for very long he was sure. But whether or not he would actually be able to send everyone back to Gaia was a daunting obstacle. What if there was no way? What of they would all be stuck here, no matter what? If he could make it happen, then sure as Hell he was going with them, and never coming back. He didn't care if he would become a creature that existed to be hunted by crazy zealot-people as consequence, but he couldn't let go of what he had gained on that planet's surface after all those years of turmoil.

The grey army that was so willingly bent to his will was following closely in the shadows, keeping what he knew now to be the Prideful Damned in their place, away from the living. It was still an odd feeling, to have these scores of… things… pining for every word he thought or spoke, willing to break themselves in half for his approval and good graces. It was scary. He had never had a responsibility quite like this before.

Commotion rose from ahead, making him and everyone else behind him come to a halt. A body, bloodied and torn, flew out from the alleyway, clearly dead. Strong One, the shape-shifter the bounty hunter had entrusted the lives of the mages with, emerged from between the buildings, making several of the gathered men and women shudder and cower. The thing looked as though it had just gone through a blender and then some.

"Master…" said the beast in the tongue only he, out of all present, could understand. "You have returned at last… The resistors to your rule are dead…"

He hoped so. He didn't think he would be able to deal with another person like Xio threatening to have him melted down into genetic sludge for some form of evil greater good. A small weight seemed to disappear from his shoulders.

- - -

Eiko and Vivi towed the Queen behind them, following after the Chef. They caught their breath, in the main street was all the captives with the redhead leading them. So, he had kept his word. They ran out, looking for their friends.

Zidane eventually came out from the back. "Why did we stop?" he questioned. He caught sight of the others. "Eiko! Vivi! Garnet!" He dashed towards them, giving them all hugs of joy. Vivi politely refused, trying to keep his injured arm as far from possible harm as he could. The thief stood up, beaming at the Queen. His smile quickly faded however, when he noticed the blank look on her face. "Garnet…?"

The Queen was lost. Whatever was going on around her, she could not tell nor interact with. The darkness that clouded her mind was all-enveloping, smothering everything into blackness, keeping her isolated. But there was something, a voice? or a light?, just beyond, calling to her. She wanted to answer it, reach for it, but was afraid of what the darkness would do to her. What about her people? What about her friends? They were all so far away… Had she failed them in her absence? Had she been cast away as a mere dead weight? A thousand jeers wrought of her own fears mocked her from every direction. _You couldn't save your mother… You couldn't save your Kingdom… You couldn't help your people when they cried for aid… You couldn't keep the man you loved… What kind of Queen are you?…_

Zidane looked at the Queen with worry and apprehension. What was wrong with Garnet? "Garnet?" He took her by the shoulders, trying to elicit some response from the woman. He looked into her eyes, hoping to find an answer to her unusual silence. A torpid pool of umber stared back at him, reflecting nothing. What was wrong with her? Was she hypnotised? She couldn't see him, couldn't hear him, and it hurt.

The two mages could only watch, unable to say anything as the bruised and battered blonde embraced the ruler, pleading for her to wake up.

"Please, Garnet… wake up…" sobbed the thief, eyes watering. The Queen was as straight as a plank, hardly bending under his weight. Was this… his fault? He hadn't been fast enough, strong enough, to save her in time. And now she was lost to him, cut away and left on the long side of an impregnable abyss. He never thought that being so utterly alone in the presence of the one person he truly cared for would burn so much. He had pushed her away… Ignored her… And now there was nothing to gaze back upon. He had left her to drift, and this was his punishment for crawling back. He should never have done that! Never had denied what he truly wanted! Never been afraid of that final step he had avoided for so long! He began to weep.

Her shoulder felt wet. Was it raining? She couldn't tell in the ditch she had somehow dug for herself. The Queen hunkered in her emptiness, trying to hide from the shouts of her own doubt and shame. _Garnet, please wake up…_ whispered a new voice amongst the inhuman jeers, forcing her to look about, listen. _Don't leave me, Garnet…_ Still the odd rain fell, soaking her right shoulder. What was this new voice? It sounded so much like Zidane…

The thief fell to his knees, gripping at the torn and tattered dress his one true obsession wore about her form. What was to do without her? Go back to thievery? Go back to Tantalus? He knew now, clearer than ever, that he wanted nothing more than to be with this wondrous woman; and he would do anything to get her back. Anything.

She didn't want to be alone! She couldn't hide forever! She had to answer the voices, stand up to them! She was a Queen, but she was also human. Humans had their limits, but they made by, all and everyone. She would do the same. She would do all in her power to be what she needed to be. She grasped at the walls of her hole, trying to drag herself up, back into what she had left behind. She would make amends. The walls were treacherous, wet and slimy, coated with her own fear of rejection and spurning. Yes… she would go back, and she knew that there were those, always those, that would help her, no matter what. No matter the obstacle, no matter the darkness. Up, up, up she climbed, past the offending laughs and threats, into the dim glow at the end.

Zidane fell to the ground, utterly beaten in a way only a hopeless romantic would be. He gripped at the Queen's ankle, shaking so badly he swore he was going to fall apart at the seams.

Garnet, her conscious bubbling back from the dark pit of self-doubt and denial, rubbed at her eyes, trying to focus on the landscape about her. She could hear a voice, one that she thought she would never hear again, sobbing at her feet. She looked down through clearing vision at a ragged figure at her feet. "Zidane…?"

The thief jerked his head up. "Garnet!" he cried, leaping up to embrace the brunette. He held her tightly. "Oh, Garnet! I'm so sorry! I'll never leave you again, I swear!"

"Zidane!"

The two clutched at each other and wept, bring happy expressions to all present despite their situation.

Amarant watched the two soak each others' shoulders. He couldn't help but smile. So, it seemed as though Zidane had decided to take that final step. Good for him. He knew that this was something that was not going to fade for generations to come. The assembly of shape-shifters, The Progeny, as they were called, waited silently in the shadows, ready to follow any whim he could conjure. Alright, so it seemed as though they had everyone that was still alive, it was time to hike it out to the wastes beyond Mis' last wall. But he needed to figure out a way to get them all back; he couldn't just lead them out into the barrens and leave them there. It would be like promising a kid you'd get him a puppy and then bring back a dead cat.

Zidane and Garnet finally broke their embrace, tear-streaked faces glowing with an inner triumph. "You g-guys okay?" questioned the little black mage.

The thief nodded. "Yeah." He looked around. He tensed upon seeing the cleaver-bearing butcher. "What the Hell is that?" he exclaimed, keeping in front of the Queen on reflex.

"I-it's okay, Zidane," assured Vivi. "H-he's a friend of ours."

"Oh?" He didn't ease up in the slightest. The giant thing just peered at him with its beady eyes, looking anything but friendly.

"Yeah. A-Amarant found him a-and got him t-to hep us."

He turned to the bounty hunter. "You? You found this… thing here?" he asked, pointing.

The man shrugged slightly. "More or less. He found me first."

"Don't tell me you instantly made friends with--"

"Keep your boxers on, Tribal. He's saved my hide more than once, and that's grounds for a little trust, wouldn't you say?" he quipped.

The Chef made no comment.

Zidane just nodded numbly.

"Come on," said the man, starting forward. "We need to get out of here."

The thief thought for a moment. What about the grey things he had seen earlier? "Wait…"

The redhead stopped. "Hn? What?"

Still, he couldn't… bring himself to… "Nothing."

The other peered at him with a green eye.

Zidane looked away, looking over his new weapons in hopes of getting the much larger man to divert his attention elsewhere. The alien blade was polished to a blackened shine, its reflection as clear as day. The thief angled it from position to position, momentarily lost in its mirror-like splendour. He caught his breath. Reflected on the blade's surface was a monster. He looked up hastily, looking for the beast. Nothing. Amarant, surrounded with people, was all that met his gaze. He looked back to the knife, thinking that maybe his mind was playing tricks on him. But still, the hideous form of some ebony fleshed freak of nature stood in the mirrored image… surrounded… by human folk? What was this?

"Let's keep moving," said the redhead, bringing the tailed blonde out of his reverie.

The caravan of fugitives started after their unanimous leader, heading for the main gates of the horrible city they would all be soon leaving behind. The pace was kept to a walk, as most dangers had been taken care of, for the most part. The great black gates rose up before them within moments, tall and menacing. Yet again, they opened without protest or order, allowing the masses to exit freely.

Once again Zidane was deeply suspicious of all this. The convenience of it all was unreal. Where were the guards that should have been stationed here? The folk congealed not too far beyond the entry, which remained open and quiet. He could see no sign of the grey forms that he had been sure were tailing them on all sides. As the rest of the escapees settled for a rest, he approached the Burmecian Dragon Knight, hoping to find some comfort amongst all of this. "Freya?"

She turned to face him, smiling. "Zidane… We're going home!"

He almost felt ashamed for what he was about to say. She was so happy… they were all so happy… "Freya… this doesn't seem right," he said softly, keeping his voice low.

Her brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Well, it just seems weird. I mean, we got out of there without being stopped. No obstacles, no foes."

"So?" she questioned. "We're out. That's all that matters."

"But doesn't it seem strange to you? The doors, the locked gates opening of their own accord? Its all to convenient to be real!"

"Stop it, Zidane," she said crossly. "Stop analysing things. This is our good fortune, don't spoil it all with idiotic suspicions." She marched away, newfound pike in hand.

He remained where he was. There was something not right, he knew it. But what? Well, maybe their 'leader' would have a few answers for him. With this thought in mind, he started a search for the redhead that had miraculously brought them from certain death to freedom with an all-too-easy play of the cards.

- - -

"A mirror, sir?" questioned the Pluto Knight.

"Yes," affirmed the man, nodding. "It is a very precious… family heirloom, and I must have it returned to my home." He touched his eye in a show of emotion. "It holds many -sniff- memories of my mother."

The Knight shifted on his metal clad feet, his comrades exchanged glances. Who would steal a mirror, anyway? The armed man cleared his throat. For some reason, he didn't feel… comfortable around this man. "Well, sir… we are investigating this area for criminal activity."

The stranger kept his orange gaze on the Knight intently, still wiping at his eye in sorrow.

"Our Captain is looking over the interior of this tent even as we speak. It is possible that he may have found your, ah, family mirror."

His gaze narrowed behind his yellow locks. "Oh…" he said, keeping his voice fraught with emotion. "Do you think he would let me take a look inside? I simply must have this mirror back. It is so precious to me…" he reinstated for effect.

The Knight tried hard to keep from cringing. He didn't like this man… but he couldn't place why. "I'll… have a word with the Captain," he said finally.

"You will? Oh, thank you!" said the man, clasping his pale hands together.

Grumbling something under his breath, the Pluto Knight shuffled off to speak with the Captain, leaving his companions with the stranger.

The orange-eyed man watched him leave sharply, an unwholesome grin spreading over his thin face in the morning light.

* * *

A/N: Such sappiness! That's probaly the worst thing I've pulled yet. But it needs to happen, or else this would all just fall to pieces.

Thank you all for your reviews! See you all in another two weeks!


	15. P4: iv

Disclaimers: Zidane and his fellow laboratory mutants all belong to Squaresoft and its parasite, Enix.

But all things besides are mine.

It's not over yet, so hold onto your hats!

See you all in yet another fourteen days.

* * *

**iv - The Curtains Are Drawn**

Amarant surveyed his handiwork. They were out. So close to freedom, but one step still needed to be taken. They may have left Mis, but they were all as good as dead if they couldn't find a true, physical escape back to Gaia. However, though he knew what he wanted for these people and himself, he was clueless of how to attain it. Strong One waited silently not too far from his side, cleaver at rest.

He needed information, options, doors. His head was still too clouded to glean anything of real use. Maybe the grey blobs and the fake Chef would know a thing or two. He would have to converse somewhere the rest of these folk would not see. The last thing he needed was to have mass hysteria break out because some kid caught a glimpse of a colourless mutant. Putting a hand to his head he quietly told the Chef to retrieve one of The Progeny for him to speak to and wait out of sight. With hardly a sound Strong One vacated.

All this was starting to weigh down on his already aching brain. He needed a break, some else to play leader.

"Yo, Amarant!"

He turned his head to see who had spoken. "What, Tribal?" he questioned, his tone more angry than he intended.

"That's no way to say 'hello'," snorted the messy blonde. "Anyway, I gotta talk to you," he said seriously.

He said nothing, waiting for the thief to continue. He felt so… bitter. He didn't know why. He was beginning to question just how much longer he would be able to play 'battered human being'.

"What's going on here?" he questioned quietly. "Something's up, I can tell… And you know something about it, don't you?"

"Care to be a little more specific, monkey? As far as I can tell, there's an awful lot 'up' with this place," He drawled back, trying to regain his cool exterior. The anger and rage he felt before while being threatened by Xio was fighting against him, trying to bubble back into domination.

"Everything. Like, why did the doors open by themselves? Why didn't we run into any resistance? How is it that we're still all alive?"

"Is that it?" he huffed.

"It's more than chance, Amarant, even I can see that." He gave him a solemn look. "Did you have anything to do with it?"

He considered his answer. There was only so much he could afford to say. He didn't want to lose everything he had gained too soon. "What would it matter?" he hissed, staring off towards the black smear that was Mis. "You are here, but steps away from freedom, what more could you want?"

"But why?" he insisted.

"I don't have time for this," he sighed. The man began to walk towards the rocks.

"Where are you going?"

"To take a whiz," he replied sarcastically. "I'm working on getting us out of here. You just stay put and watch over the escapees."

Zidane watched him go. He still didn't have the answers to his questions. He knew that Amarant had them, but he wouldn't give them to him. True, they all were incredibly well off… but he couldn't help it. There was something up with his companion, and he wanted to know just what it was. Friends didn't keep secrets like this from each other. Frowning slightly to himself, he brought out the knife. Even in the near-darkness, its reflection was bright. He angled it about. The black skinned beast materialised; only this time… it was bigger. It was walking away. He looked up. Still, the only being on the horizon, was Amarant.

The redhead vanished behind a tall black monolith of a rock.

Amarant leaned against the black stone, sighing in exhaustion. This was all just too much.

Zidane suspected something. He rubbed his face. Of course he did. Of all the things he was, the monkey wasn't stupid. How was he going to go about this? He needed to get all these people out of here. On top of that, he needed to do it without a barrage of questions afterwards. He wanted to keep this… self-discovery to himself, he didn't need to be bogged down with more guilt and shame than he already did.

"Master…" came the familiar hiss. Strong One emerged from behind another monolith, a lesser shape-shifter like itself under its arms. The grey thing bubbled and chattered upon seeing the man, squirming in every direction in unrestrained glee. They were like children, these things. Deadly, indescribable children. All of which were more or less glued to him through body if not mind. It made him cringe.

The fake Chef put the thing on the ground. The smaller shape-shifter then proceeded to scramble up to him, scurrying about his booted feet, jabbering like a newborn, gripping his pant-leg.

The chatter nearly hurt his ears. Whatever humanity he still possessed was protesting against all this tooth and nail. "Oi, stop that!" he said to the little thing, rubbing his temple.

The grey thing froze instantly in its caperings, gazing up at him with yellow eyes. It clutched at his clothes, making purring noises.

This was something he hoped he didn't ever have to get used to, if his luck held. "Alright," he addressed the two beings. "I need a way out of here, to send these people back. …Do either of you know of a way to do that?" he questioned, hoping they would understand.

Strong One rumbled. The smaller creep made bubbling noises.

He sighed. Great. They didn't.

The smaller freak tugged urgently at his pants to get his attention. He looked down at it. "What, squirt?" he interrogated impatiently.

It gasped. Shrieking, the little thing let go of his clothes to scuttle about in circles, sending plumes of dirt flying into the air. "Squirt!" it squealed. "Squirt!"

What, did he insult it?

Strong One said nothing.

The grey blob screamed and flew at him, plastering itself to his legs a second time. "Master named me!" it shrieked. "Me me me me! Squirt! Squirt!" It continued to chant its 'name' loudly, crawling up to the man's chest. It stared him in the eye. "Squirt know, Master," it said.

"Oh?" he questioned stupidly, taken aback from its enthusiasm at being called what most would consider an insult.

"Yes yes!" it hissed happily. "Master need mirror, Demon's Mirror, to open door, set ugly people free."

_And who are you talk?_ He arched an eyebrow somewhere beneath the mass of hair he carried.

"Mirror send mortals away," it clarified. "Back to where they came." It dropped from his chest, still shaking from the supposed euphoria of being given a name amongst the throng of shapeless grey of its peers. Didn't they all already have names? He guessed not. But Strong One already had a name… He shook his head. That wasn't important!

"A mirror?" he repeated. So… like the one he had come through in the tent outside of Gaia? "Where do I get one?" he asked the two.

The Chef spoke up. "There are only so many, Master… Most are lost elsewhere… Unfound and useless…"

"Then are there any here that I can use?" he questioned irritably. He told those people he would get them out, and there would be no end of trouble if he couldn't fulfil that ideal.

"There is one…" said Strong One after a little thought. "In the Nursery… Last Mirror of Pride…"

Amarant lightened considerably, but tried to keep his hopes reasonable. "Can you get it to me?"

'Squirt' peered at him. "Why ask us, Master? Others get it for you! Merely ask. They do for you."

"Ask who?" he demanded darkly. He just wanted to get this over with. "Spit it out! I don't have time for all of this blithering!" He rubbed his temples, fighting the rage. This was not like him.

The two shape-shifters were unmoved in the slightest. "All children will hear you, Master…" said Strong One. "Ask it… Will it…"

'Will it'? Like what? A frigging wish? He was having trouble staving the rampant anger that had previously taken control over him so easily. He wanted, no, _needed_ that mirror. He would have it. Even if he had to level every building and every being for ten miles around. What? How could he think such things?

The ground at his feet shook and sunk into a small pothole.

With a sucking noise multiple hands were released from the conical depression in the earth, dripping with a thick, nameless redish-pink ooze. Shape-shifters, draped in what looked to be some sort of translucent organic cowl, scrambled up to the surface, more pink than grey. Six of them came crawling out, dribbling in goo. In their much smaller hands was clutched a mirror of grand size and design. Infernal beings of several shapes and sizes were carved about its priceless frame, glimmering with a thousand ropes of metal and drops of gemstones. This. This was what he needed to get out of here!

He took the mirror from the hands of the shape-shifters, giving them all a nod before making his way back to the others.

- - -

Zidane was still sulking in his silence, trying to mash the unfitting pieces of their predicament's puzzle together, and not coming up with anything.

He caught sight of the redhead returning from behind the stone, carrying something large and oval shaped under his arm.

"What is that?" he asked the man as he came up.

"This," the man set the thing down, revealing the thing to be a grand mirror, "is our road out."

The surface of the mirror rippled and waved under the power of an unfelt wind, reflecting the interior of what looked to be a tent of some kind. Zidane looked at the oddity in puzzlement, he didn't recognise the space on the other side.

"This will send us all back."

The monkey peered at the man carefully from the corner of his vision. There was still something very wrong here. There was an undertone hidden beneath the other's speech, laden with an alien element he couldn't even begin to unravel. He wanted answers, and he'd be damned if he didn't get them.

Already the bounty hunter was rounding the folk up, leading towards the mirror. Some were already stepping through, disappearing to the other side. Zidane watched in amazement. Was this how they were all brought here? People were crowding tight around the mirror in anticipation.

The bounty hunter watched silently. He was beyond relieved that this plan was working. He wasn't sure what to expect when he had taken it. Luck was going his way, it seemed. Soon… all of them, including himself, would be going home. Home. His gaze meandered to the ground, his smile fading. Was it right? For him to go back as well?

With the folk distracted, he retreated towards the stones, his head battling between the two conflicting trains of reasoning traversing for rule in his brain.

Zidane pushed his way out from the crowd for some fresh air. He would wait until everyone else was through before he went through himself. He wanted to be sure… wait… Where was Amarant? The redhead had disappeared again. He swept the dark wastes. There! The man, far in the distance already, ducked behind an obelisk. He started after him.

"Zidane!"

He stopped. Garnet was rushing towards him.

"Zidane!" she said again as she neared, slowing to a stop before him. "Come, Zidane! We can finally go home! Its all over!"

He gave her a genuine smile. But it wasn't over… not yet… "I know… But…"

"But what?"

He put his hands on her shoulders. "You go through, Garnet. There's one last thing… I have to do. Don't worry," he added, seeing her apprehension. "I'll come back, I promise." He turned away and started for where he had last seen the redhead. He would get to the bottom of this, no matter how long it took.

He went quietly, cautiously. At last, he picked up the faint hiss of voices, one of them definitely the bounty hunter's. He slinked closer, keeping to the shadows.

He chanced a greeting. "Amarant?" he called out carefully. The chatter instantly stopped.

The redhead emerged from behind the obelisk. "Zidane?"

He started towards him.

"What is it?"

"I need to talk to you," he said, looking about for the source of the other voices he had heard. Nobody other than the bounty hunter and himself were present. Odd… there had been more than one voice…

"Tribal? Oi, don't konk out on me," said the man, waving a pale hand in front of the tailed thief's face to break him out of his reverie.

"Huh? Oh, right." He turned to face him. The blonde gazed at the much taller figure in front of him. Though his hair still shadowed the eyes, he could tell that there was something bubbling behind them; something crucial to all this madness. "Amarant…"

"What already?" he huffed.

"…I need you to be honest with me."

The redhead was silent, angling his head slightly as if in contemplation. "Fine. What is it you want?"

- - -

Steiner fell backwards as the surface of the mirror shuddered and spat out a limb. A body soon followed. It was a peasant. The woman got to her feet and reached into the silvery face, pulling up another, who in turn reached in to do the same. The Pluto Captain was dumbfounded. His senses somewhat returning he jumped to his feet, clanking up to the side of the ever growing crowd. "Is her Majesty in there?!" he questioned hastily, clanking in his armour.

The woman who had emerged first turned to face him, her young son in her arms. "The Queen? She's there," she answered, making to leave.

The man blinked dumbly. "Ah, beware the puddle, ma'am!" he called after her.

One after another the stolen folk poured from the mirror, greeting each other and the confused Knight. Amongst the confusion a younger Knight fought to his superior's side. "Captain! Captain!"

Steiner looked to the lesser Knight. "Yes? What is it?"

"There is a man outside who says there is something in here that belongs to him, something stolen from him, apparently."

"Oh?" He focussed completely on the younger man.

"Yes, sir. He says he had a mirror stolen from him."

- - -

Nearly half of the folk were through the portal. The Alexandrian Queen was staring across the blasted horizon, searching the deepening darkness for her thieving hero. She could see no sign of him, nor could she spot the tall red haired man that had brought them all here. Where were they? Freedom and home was but a step away and neither of them could be found.

"Queen Garnet."

A paw-like hand rested on her shoulder, she looked up to who owned the calloused limb, though she already knew it was Freya.

She gave the ruler a small smile. "Don't worry. I'm sure he'll be back soon. Zidane was never one to go back on his word."

"…I know." She looked out across the blasted wastes. It was so dark… "I'm just scared… for him. I don't want to lose him again."

Freya gripped her shoulder in reassurance. "You won't."

- - -

Zidane peered at the taller man carefully. He looked nervous. Fingering the hilt of his new dagger he put his inquiries forward. "Alright, Amarant; what's going on? I know you know."

The redhead sighed heavily. "Must you know?" he questioned back softly, looking out into the bleak, black horizon.

"Yes," he stated firmly. "Tell me why we got out so easily."

Another sigh. "Aahhgg… … …I did it. I made the gates and the doors open, the lights stay away." He didn't look at the thief.

Though he was not surprised, he was still startled at the fact that he had been _right_. "So it was you," he said quietly. "I knew it."

"So what?" he challenged angrily. "What are you going to do, Tribal? Judge me? Leave me here?"

Zidane was taken aback. From between the thick scarlet dreadlocks he could see the man's forest green gaze. He could see a great deal of _hurt_ swimming in the bright depths, along with something else. He could not tell what it was, but whatever it may have been, it was staring him right back, making him shiver. "Why would I do that?" he questioned dumbly.

The taller figure nearly sneered at him. "Don't give me any of that," he growled. "You know perfectly well, it seems."

The tailed thief was more than a little confused. "Amarant, what are you talking about?"

He glared at him, leaning against the obelisk. "…Nothing."

Zidane regarded him silently as he fumed to himself. "It seems obvious to me that you need to get something off your chest," he commented.

Another sour glance. "Oh? What gave you that idea?"

He sighed. "Come on, Amarant!"

"What, for Heaven's sake?"

"Look, open up for me, would you? You can't do this to me, I'm your friend!" he shouted at him.

The redhead peered at him almost coldly. The fog swirled in his brain violently, telling him that he could trust no-one. Meanwhile, what humanity he still had left was telling him otherwise.

"Talk to me," he said, softer. "You did the same for me, in the library. Somehow… I think it's time I returned the favour." He paused. "Please. All of you are my greatest friends, and I can't just stand by and watch you torture yourself." He looked up at him.

Amarant's chilly glared faded. Of all the things Zidane could do, he couldn't lie; this he knew for a fact, despite the ulterior fact that the monkey had the worst memory out of anybody he had ever met. The dumb arse still didn't remember that it was because of his stupid antics that he had become a wanted man. But this wasn't the place for such bitterness. "Hn… It's… nothing… I'm just having a slight… identity crisis, that's all." Feh. He wasn't lying, that's for sure. "Things just…" He looked up at the sky. "Seem to be falling around me… I don't know what to believe anymore… I don't know what to do…" He sighed and closed his eyes. "Things aren't as clear as they were… It's just not the same…"

The blonde looked up at the black, blank sky as well, smiling lightly to himself. "Well…" he said, "all I can say is 'Things aren't the same as they were. Depending on the way you look at it, maybe it is. Perhaps it could just be that you're afraid of that final step'." He chuckled slightly, crossing his arms and nudging him with an elbow. "You'll figure it out." He turned and left, tail waving behind him.

The bounty hunter watched him leave from the corner of his vision. Once the tailed boy was gone, he started to laugh. He never thought that he would be fed his own advice. He laughed until tears fell from the corners of his eyes. It all came to him now… He knew what he had to do… He slid down the length of the great monolith, his laughs degrading to quiet sobs. It was all too clear now.

With the thief gone, Strong One and Squirt emerged from the shadows to stand before their Master.

- - -

The tent was overflowing with people. Folk were leaving the tarp construction in waves, all of them either laughing, crying, or just plain silent.

Steiner and his Knights were confused wit this odd development. Never before had any of them heard of people coming out of mirrors, let alone people coming out of mirrors looking like they had been through Hell. Amongst all the chaos the senior Knight was straining to locate his Queen and the others she had disappeared along with. After over an hour of folk pouring out from the object, there was no sign of the Alexandrian ruler and her companions.

Outside, a man with an orange gaze was watching all of this with mounting impatience and anger.

- - -

The Dragon Knight was scouting for any stragglers. The faint breeze fooled with her short cropped silver locks, batting them against the bridge of her slightly darker nose. She peered out over the horizon. A deep blue glow had arisen where the sky met the earth. It wasn't a sunrise, but it was oddly beautiful. She looked back towards the horrible city she and her companions had just escaped. A figure only just registered to her vision, moving away towards the city. She gripped her pike and went after the shadow.

"Halt!" she ordered, her weapon in the ready position. The last thing they all needed was a sneaky creep telling a larger group of creeps where they were. None of them were in any position to fight.

The figure stopped, turning to look at her. It was Amarant. "What, rat?" he asked casually.

She blinked. "What are you doing out here?" she questioned.

The man grinned, turning away to restart his trek. "Taking some advice the monkey gave me," he said with a wave, leaving her alone.

"What--wait!" she called after him. He didn't stop.

Freya cast a glance around her, and turned tail. She dashed for the remaining folk, knowing that she should have a word with the thief.

She ran as quickly as she could, reaching the tailed boy and his Queen completely out of breath.

"Freya? What's up?" Zidane questioned seriously, putting a hand on her heaving shoulder.

She wheezed and sputtered. "Ama… That big oaf… saw him… headed for… city…" She gasped for breath. "Said something about… you saying something…" she motioned with her arm, bent over in exhaustion. The Queen was beside her, trying to help her breathe.

Meanwhile, Zidane was still on his feet, staring out into the distance, a look of utter disbelief on his face. What was that man doing? With hardly a word he ran as fast as he could towards the ugly edifice that was the dark city.

The sand was plotting against him, he knew it. The loose grains shifted all too readily under his boots, making him slip and nearly fall on more occasions than he could count. With aching limbs he persevered, his mind bent on retrieving the crazy redhead he once again owed his life to. This wasn't the first time the man had saved his life, and he was intent on making sure that it wouldn't be the last.

The wall was nearing, but much slower than he liked, amazingly enough. Almost there. He squinted into the darkness, he could see… "Amarant!"

The figure stopped, looking over his shoulder.

"Amarant! Stop! Wait!" He was exhausted and out of breath. He nearly fell for the umpteenth time.

He was beyond the open gates of the Hellish city. Zidane could see his face. Why was he smiling? "Sorry, Tribal," he called back. "But this is my fight." He backed away.

Fight? What fight? Against what? Who? "Wait! Please!"

Amarant shook his head. "Don't make me go back on my responsibilities, monkey."

What?

"See you around." He took another step back. With an ominous groan the doors slammed shut before the thief's face, barring him out with impregnable slabs of cold black stone and metal.

Zidane ran right up to the gates, hammering at them with a gloved fist. "Amarant! Open these gates! Come back!" he cried hoarsely. "Open them, please!" He slid down the face of the doors, utterly spent. He banged his fist against the gates feebly, tears streaking down his cheeks.

* * *


	16. P4: v

Disclaimers: Zidane and his whatevers belong to Squaresoft and Enix.

Everything else is mine.

Some weird stuff is going on now, so be preapred, people.

* * *

**v - A Word With The Devil**

Vivi and Eiko had gone through the mirror now, leaving the Queen with the lady Dragon Knight and a few stragglers who were helping the wounded and the elderly through the portal.

"Where is he?" she whispered to herself, rubbing her arms to ward off the chill breeze that blew across the barrens. The Chef was still marching in a wide circle around them, on the lookout, she guessed.

Freya stood silently behind her, the stolen pike still in her hands. Where were those two fools? She swept the bleak horizon herself with her sharp Burmecian gaze. Her view was wide, unhindered by the helmet she had long since lost. But she could see nothing. The darkness was so thick. If she was lucky, she could almost spot the occasional undulation of the strange material that served as the sky. She wanted very much to leave; leave this horrible place behind and go back to what mattered to her most, make sure everything was as it should be back home. She couldn't wait… She wanted to see the others so badly. The King, Frately… everyone. She felt it right to make a point of noticing everyone around her from now on; the folk that none really took notice of. The cooks, the merchants, the maids… all of them. With this experience over, she wanted to live her days to the fullest, and make those she met feel… important. After all she had seen, heard, and felt, there was now nothing more important to her than living.

Garnet was thinking of other things. Once she got back with Zidane, she would have a nation-wide head-count, make sure that no-one had been left behind in this awful place of suffering. She still was far from sure just what this place actually was, but somewhere, deep down, she already knew.

But she would never admit it.

- - -

He was gone.

Zidane couldn't call out to the man anymore, his voice was too choked with sobs. Why did he do this? What for? He couldn't fathom why he would leave.

He had to get help. He had to somehow open the gates and drag that redheaded fool back.

- - -

He had no regrets. No second thoughts. He knew what to do now. That crazy monkey still had some grains of clear thought, it seemed. Amarant's mind was finally unclouded. Everything was laid out before him as clear as day, the fog gone at long last.

He wouldn't go back. Couldn't go back. He had to stay here. Returning to Gaia would bring him no peace, he would be hounded from one end of the earth to the other, either by crazed hunters of 'evil' or by the same creatures that had brought him here. If he wanted to attain and keep any form of peace, he would have to stay here; but he would have to clean the place up. And in order to do that, he had to take care of one last problem.

- - -

All the common folk had stepped through the mirror. All that remained now were the two heroes of yesteryear.

Garnet was getting stressed. She had still seen no sign of either Zidane or Amarant; it was as if the two of them had vanished into thin air. She swept the horizon with a watery gaze. No… she wouldn't lose him again!

The frightening creature Amarant had picked up at some point during their stay here was still with them, after having gone off for a while, standing not too far away, watching them closely. Perhaps it would know something of the two men's whereabouts?

Garnet stepped over to the giant beast slowly, unsure of how to address the thing. The Chef peered at her as she advanced towards it shakily, keeping its cleaver still before it. "Excuse me…" greeted the Queen. It said nothing, scrutinising her with its beady eyes. The Alexandrian ruler kept her poise straight, not wanting to appear intimidated. "…Two of our friends have gone missing," she continued, hoping to elicit some form of response. Still, the Chef said nothing. "One of them was the man who brought you with us, another was--"

"_Oooggg ggghhhuuuooorrrhhhttt eeehhhttt lllaaatttrrroooppp, nnnaaammmuuuhhh…_" said the giant, looking away.

The Queen blinked. She had no idea of what the thing had just said, but it almost seemed as though it had told her off. She remained undeterred. She would have Zidane found. "Please, we need to find them--"

"_Rrruuuoooyyy sssrrraaaeeefff eeerrraaa hhhsssiiillloooooofff… Oooggg kkkcccaaabbb ooottt rrruuuoooyyy mmmlllaaaeeerrr dddnnnaaa kkknnniiihhhttt tttooonnn fffooo sssiiihhhttt eeecccaaalllppp…_" hissed the fake butcher, giving her a dismissive wave of its dainty hand. Dredging its blade out of the dead earth it wandered off, moving in a deliberate pace towards the black city.

Garnet just stood where she was. Would no-one help? Zidane was probably alright… but she could not help worrying. More than anything, she wanted him to come back.

"Garnet! Freya!"

She whipped her head around, ears straining. That sounded like Zidane! After a few seconds of scanning the gloom he saw him, running towards them. The Dragon Knight came to stand beside her, her attention piquing with the commotion.

"Garnet! Freya!" he called again, rushing up to the two women.

"Zidane, you're safe!" cried the battered Queen, running up to meet him. She caught him in her arms easily.

"Garnet," wheezed the thief, pulling her away slightly. "I need…" He was gasping for breath. "You two… to help me… get Amarant… back…"

Freya stepped up. "What? Why? What happened?" she questioned seriously.

The sweaty blonde leaned against the brunette in exhaustion. "The doors… gates opening… he did it… all him… He… went back… to the city… locked himself in… said something about… a fight…" He dropped to the ground. "Can't let him… go alone…"

"We should help!" said the Queen.

"Zidane, what did you tell him earlier?" Freya asked suspiciously, her mind still swimming in a shallow pool of rage towards the man.

Zidane looked up, panting hard. "What I said?" He scratched the back of his head, his breathing slowing to a more manageable rate. "I only told him what he told me a few nights ago." He replied elusively. Freya regarded him stoically. "Uh, he was saying he was having some identity crisis or something, er, that he was confused about something." He held the Dragon Knight's gaze. "Why? What about it?"

The Burmecian shifted her pike in contemplation. "I see… So that's why…"

"What? What?" He stood up hurriedly.

Freya put a hand to her chin. "I think he has some form of unfinished business here. I'm guessing that what you said to him must have inspired him to deal with it. Though I can't even begin to think of what that could be," she lied. The oaf was probably heading back to chat with his demonic friends, possibly to finish them off. Her brow furrowed in thought. Either way, they had best leave. She didn't trust the redhead any further than she could throw him, which was not at all.

Zidane was getting impatient. "Well, whatever! We need to go and help! We can't just stand around and do nothing!"

"And what do you propose we do?" she questioned angrily, nearly glaring. She didn't care for that disgusting creature that had posed by them as a human being. Let him rot for what he did to them, after all this was his fault. "It seems to me that he's purposefully shut himself away in that city. And from what I've seen so far there is no way we're getting in by ourselves." She shook her head. "He gave us a way out. I say we take that and leave him."

The thief glared back at her. "How can you say that?" he demanded. "Yes, he got us a way out, but he can't take part in that now! I'm not leaving until we get him out!"

"What will you do then, once we get inside?" she interrogated, louder. "If it was him controlling the doors, then he was probably the reason we got out so easily! If we go back in there now we'll never get out! We'll be torn to pieces!"

"I don't believe you!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. "You say that as if all this was his fault!"

"And what if it is?!" She didn't bother to hold down the lid that suppressed her rage.

Garnet took a small step away from the two as Zidane's eyes narrowed dangerously. "How can you say that?…" he said slowly.

Freya's gaze narrowed in kind. "Because I can see what you didn't," she hissed. "I don't think that all this happened to us by mere _chance_, Zidane. After Xio caught you he spoke to Amarant, saying that he would 'bring them up to where they belonged'." She took a menacing step towards the thief. "Those bastards brought us here to lure him to them."

"You…"

"You wouldn't know! You weren't even conscious for most of this… this Hell!" She waved her arms as she spoke. "People died! Others permanently scared! And it was all for him!" She stared the thief right in the eyes. "And I don't care if he comes back. He's gone; and good riddance to him! He was nothing but trouble the moment we met him."

Zidane was furious. Yelling like a madman he leapt at the angry Burmecian.

- - -

The Fortress was quiet. The shattered Throne Room of the all-powerful Founder was but feet ahead of him, waiting. The Throne… that would be his. Yes… he knew why he was here now. With the acceptance of what he was came the reason for his birth; why all those slobbering shape-shifters kowtowed before him. He was successor to this stinkfest.

He grinned to himself, the rage and bitterness welling up without remorse. He was the Doppelganger Lord.

No, he wasn't human, and it still hurt that he was finally giving it all up. But he didn't have a choice. He would be pursued until he took this seat, regardless of where he ran. He would never be safe, never be happy, until he willingly placed himself upon that ugly chair of command. It was his birthright.

A birthright to power, godly fame, and an army unlike any world had or would ever know.

With hardly a grunt he pushed the doors to the Throne Room open, stepping inside without breaking his stride. He tossed the Ringmaster's vicious whip to the side. He would not need it. The blades that adorned his fist would be more than enough for this job.

The gross welt of flesh waited for the former bounty hunter, unmoving above the chasm Xio had created to break him unto madness and relinquish what was his. He stopped before the alter, still in that so very familiar shell. He waited at the broken alter's base.

The mound trembled, sending a terrible tremor throughout the Fortress. "_My child…_" came the voice of the Founder. "_You have returned to me at last…_" The welt opened, admitting the mutated form of Pride's current ruler out into the stale air. The thing gazed at the redhead with its one eye, its five arms waving in the air slightly as the misshapen body swayed. The former convict just glared at the thing. The Founder pursed its lips. "_Child… why are you so cold?… To your own creator… How shameful…_"

"The only shame here is not my own," spat the greater shape-shifter.

"_Whatever to do you mean?… Your delirium, child… is most unbecoming…_" it cooed, its façade unwavering.

"Clamp it," he retorted, "you of all things know well what I mean, you tub of lard. Your lawless practices stop here." He took an aggressive stance, armed fist out, the wicked blades of his stained wrist knives glinting menacingly. He knew what was going on now, all this madness. Most of it was still clouded and scattered, but he did know that this bastard was doing things it shouldn't have; including kidnapping innocent people from their homes. Whether or not he fully understood his motivation did not matter. The freak would fall, and everything left behind would be his. He would make sure nothing like this ever happened again.

The Founder sneered, its mask of kindness broken. "_Such impudence… Do you not realise that what I have done is to keep Pride strong?… They are but mortals… Mere cattle to us all… None shall miss them… The memories of such pitiful creatures are too weak to keep such notions…_"

The man scowled at his… creator. "You couldn't be more wrong, 'Master'. They possess a greater mentality than even you have never expected, it seems." He smirked darkly at the other's insulted expression. "You'll step down and set those you took free, if you know what's good for you."

The Founder chuckled evilly. "_Too late, child… Their bodies are no more… Only their twisted souls remain… And nothing will bring them back… They will have to complete the Infernal Journey, just like all before them, to reach their rest in their Heavens…_" It sneered savagely. "_You are too late to save those that the Sunderer have already claimed…_" The Founder laughed, a hideous sound than shook the very foundations of Pride itself.

Amarant snarled at the hideous thing. True, there was probably no way to save those who had already been taken beyond the point of no-return… it made him feel oddly _guilty_. Damn that creep. He would escort it to the very bottom of this place himself for what it did to his friends if need be. He flexed his shoulders in anticipation for the impending violence to come. As the monstrous being continued to laugh at the ceiling he leapt, putting all of his skills, both learned and natural, to the test. Quicker than lightning he buried his favourite weapon deep into the Founder's rattling chest. Yellow sludge burst from the ugly hole, his fist buried deep.

"_How dare you…_" gurgled the massive beast. Rage shone in its one eye. "_You will receive no repentance for your continued impudence against me…_" It took a heavy swipe at the redhead.

The smaller creature avoided the attack easily, and the four that followed. He knew that a simple stab to the heart would never be enough to fell the corrupted monster. The nimble man sliced at the throat, the arms, the face; anything he could reach.

"_YOU WILL DIE!_" screamed the Founder, swinging its entire mass to and fro in attempts to dislodge the man from its body. "_UNGRATEFUL WRETCH! I WILL ASSURE YOU ONE THOUSAND MILLENNIA OF TORMENT UNDER BEELZEBUB'S WATCH! YOU WILL NEVER SEE FORGIVENESS! NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU BEG!_"

"Shut up," replied the other simply, driving his manufactured claws through the giant beast's multiple arms.

In a sick spray of red and orange the Founder's five limbs fell away into the chasm below, vanishing in a wink, leaving only bloodied stumps upon its shoulders. Amarant Coral, former bounty hunter and cynic of all the world, leapt back to the alter to survey his handiwork.

The Founder, lost in the agony assaulting its badly brutalised system, could only gawk at the air, stunned that its own creation could do such a thing to it so easily. Its blood poured from its wounds in thick streams, unrelenting in their flow to the pit beneath it. Such scorn, it had never witnessed. "Any last words, old fart?" inquired the victor, shaking his weapons dry of gore.

"_H… How?… I made you…_" wheezed the Founder.

Amarant snorted. "You forget the reason you made me. I am your successor, and your death will be what gives me what you meant for me to have." He cracked his knuckles. "Your head is mine."

The massive creature on the wall suddenly smiled. "_Yes… That is why you are here… How foolish of me… To try to reclaim what I relinquished with your birth… So then, child… Come and claim what I built for you…_"

There was a flash, and the disguised shape-shifter was perched upon Pride's former ruler's shoulder.

"_Pride is yours now…_" hissed the Founder as pin-thin lines of red and orange began to crisscross its face. "_Even the power of Ego is yours to command…_" The lines thickened, bleeding profusely. "_My children are now your children… Judge fairly as those who came before you… Right what I have wronged… A greater power comes for you…_" Its face fell apart in eight clean cuts, leaving a headless neck behind in a shower of gore. The body fell with a crash, making a sick bridge over the pit below, bleeding all across the alter. The red haired man of crime remained on the dead shoulder of his former creator, victorious as he knew he would be.

He leapt off, oddly breathless from the short conflict. It almost seemed too easy. But then again… he had been made for this day. Perhaps this was the reason he had trained for as many years as he did on Gaia, fought as many battles as he could. But it was over now, and he had what was meant to be his. He turned and looked down into the dark pit the head of the former Founder had fallen. The darkness was impregnable. He grinned, easing into a dark laugh.

- - -

The two friends rolled in the dirt, yelling and swinging at each other. Garnet could only watch, hands over her face in shock.

"How can you be so cold?!" shrieked the thief, pinning the Knight to the ground.

"How can you be so trusting?!" screamed the Knight, shoving the thief to the earth. "He's a monster!" She tackled him.

"You don't know that!" He kicked her pike away as they fell. "You don't know him!"

Freya whipped the thief's daggers out from their sheaths and out into the sands. "Neither do you!" The Dragon Knight was furious. She nearly had her entire future taken away from her because of that foolish oaf of a man. Her marriage, her honour, her life. Too much, by a single pair of pale hands. No, that bastard _deserved_ to stay here, where he couldn't hurt anyone else.

The lady Knight heaved the thief up from the ground with a heavy groan, grabbing the arm of the startled Queen in the process.

"Put me down, Freya!" demanded Zidane.

She had no intensions of doing such a thing. With a roar she tossed the blonde into the shimmering surface, dragging the Alexandrian Queen down with her as she leapt in afterwards.

- - -

Turning on his heel, Amarant stalked from the lip of the shattered alter, leaving the corpse of the former Founder to bleed where it was. A long trail of discoloured lifeblood flowed from the stump of the neck, soaking the red carpet and slicking a fair portion of the floor in one big ugly puddle.

So, this was all his now. His. He had never really _owned_ anything before, other than his weapons. But now, he had a whole _kingdom_ to look after as he saw fit.

"Mine…" he hissed to himself.

"_Yes…_"

He spun around. Ego stood beside him, accompanied by the ghost child on his opposite.

"_It is yours…_" agreed Ego, grinning evilly. "_Happy?_"

He considered it. "…Yes."

"_I Thought so_…" It walked around him, the other child following its movements precisely until they stood in each other's places. "_There's only one thing left to do now…_" it said silkily.

"Oh?" He watched the two apparitions carefully.

"_Yes…_" It leaned on him. "_You have to let go…_"

A small wave of cold wormed up his back. "Let go…? Of what?"

Ego grinned unwholesomely. "_Your 'humanity'… It shouldn't be hard… You never had any to begin with…_"

He eyed the two things suspiciously. "And who are you… to say I can't keep it?" he growled.

Ego looked taken aback. "_Why?… Because you're not human… You never were… There is nothing for you to gain by keeping it… So why don't you give it back?… To your _good_ friend there?…_"

The green eyed child glared up at him with nothing but hatred.

Amarant looked at the floor. No, he wasn't human. But did that entail that he truly had no humanity? After all that he had been through over the years, he didn't think so. He had saved people, shown, albeit with some difficulty, compassion and want for another's happiness. No, he wouldn't give that away. He snarled and gripped both of the youths by their throats, hefting them up before him. They both sputtered in his grasp.

"_What are you doing?!_" choked Ego.

The other just writhed and hissed at him.

"As far as I'm concerned, both of you are _mine_." He gave Ego a small shake. "You, my power." Another to the hissing double. "And you, my humanity." He peered between them both with a glittering green glare. "Neither of you are leaving."

The two spirits seemed to vanish, Ego grinning wildly, and the other shrieking at nothing, until his hands were empty.

_Bravo… bravo…_

A chill breeze swirled about the new Founder. A distant sound of clapping materialised from the gloom, getting louder as something approached.

"_Bravo, bravo… So inspiring… yet boring…_"

Amarant twisted his head to see who spoke. Everything seemed to turn to ice as he finally laid eyes on the trespassing newcomer.

A slim, fair-featured, black haired man with white skin stood before the alter of the dead Founder, grinning at him with a mouthful of canines. He wore a black tuxedo with sequined cuffs, with his hair slicked back stylishly. He eyed the redhead carnivorously with yellow, red-iris orbs. "_So… you've come back… Marvellous!_" He clapped his hands, keeping his smoking cigar firmly clasped between the index and middle finger of his right hand. He walked towards the stricken man, stepping deliberately in the bloody pool about the floor in his bare feet. He looked down as he walked, taking a long drag of his cigar. "_Looks like you need to hire a maid_," he commented flippantly.

"Who… Who are you?" stammered Amarant, the ice in his veins breaking momentarily.

The stranger stared at him, slit pupils dilating, as if he were mad. "_What's the matter with you? Stupid? Senile?_" He took another puff. "_I go by many names, my good servant. I_," another puff, "_am Angra Mainyu, Apep, Arawn, Azazel, Chutriel, Daemon, Diabolos, Enma, Hades, Ilbis, Kroni, Lucifer, Mammon, Mara, O Yama, Pwcca, Satan, Schaitan, Shaitan, Yanluo Wang… I have countless names; but here, I'm known best as Darkest Lord_." He spotted something. "_Ooh! This is new…_" He wandered off towards the pillars. "_Spectacular craftsmanship…_" He wove around the pillar that had caught his eye. "_Ah… Your predecessor was a total loon… But it had such great architectural taste… Damn, I should have gotten the name of the sculptor from it before you knocked it off… oh well…_"

The former bounty hunter was more than just a little confused. Apparently, this cigar-smoking, tuxedo-wearing smart-ass was the lord of evil. He couldn't breathe.

"_Yes, I am a cigar-smoking, tuxedo-wearing smart-ass_," said the lord of evil from the other side of the pillar. "_And I'm a very sneaky cigar-smoking, tuxedo-wearing smart-ass. I can hear your thoughts, so watch it._" He wandered back from behind the pillar, taking several long drags of his undwindling cancer roll as he walked.

"What do you want with me?" he managed. What had he gotten himself into now? Was this a trap set by the thing he had only just destroyed?

The Darkest Lord blew a set of blue and green smoke rings into the air. "_Isn't it obvious?_" he questioned. "_I'm here to ask a few… questions._" He drew out the sentence like he was bestowing an early death on some unfortunate sap he didn't like. He stood up straight, taking the cigar out of his mouth. Evn though he was a good head or so shorter than he was, Amarant was intimidated unlike anything he had ever encountered. Not even a Grand Dragon had inspired so much fear in him. "_But don't worry, it won't be long. I have a chess date with my sibling… and he gets cranky when he doesn't get to play his chess. …Stupid chess._" He put the brown thing of rolled tobacco back between his lips to chew on it.

"_I want to know why my dear pooch is laying very dead at my door. Have an answer to that, hmm? Spill the beans, or I'll have you dragged over the streets of Dis from the back of my carriage,_" he threatened with an incredibly wide smile. He looked disgustingly amiable.

Amarant was at a total loss for words. His 'pooch'? What was he talk--"Oh…" Cerberus.

"_Hmm? It seems as though you know something I don't… Which is very rare, my friend. Care to share?_" He eyed him suspiciously.

Amarant tried desperately to form words, but nothing was coming. This… _creature_ was going to do him in if he didn't say something… but he just couldn't speak.

Something small dropped from the shadows above them, hitting the Darkest Lord squarely on the top of the head. The tiny missile fell harmlessly to the floor, rolling about the pool of congealing blood before stopping to rest innocently on the ground. It was a white chess piece. With an angry grunt the Darkest Lord bent over to pick the piece up, a white king, shaking his fist at the sky beyond the onyx walls thereafter. "_Would you get some patience! You--_" he interrupted himself to take a drag of his cigar. "_--can wait a second!_" He reverted his discoloured gaze to glare at the new Founder.

Amarant managed to take a step back.

"_It seems as though my time for chat is up, but I'm warning you, Founder…_" He pointed at him with his cigar hand, with his cigar. "_That I don't tolerate certain _hijinks _around here. What your predecessor did was unlawful to endth degree. Taking mortals from their realm without the consent of the Reaper is a shame without bounds! Though the Judgement passed was unfair, there is nothing that can be done for the souls it unrightfully took from the mortal world._" He paused to take another drag. "_You're lucky I don't have you punished in its place, but that would jeopardise the balance of this Level, and subsequently, those below it. But keep in mind that _I will be watching you._ Very closely. One slip-up, Founder, and you will regret it._" He licked his red lips.

"_Now, if you will excuse me, I have a friendly game of chess with what you call 'God' to play._" He turned to leave.

God? But weren't God and the Devil eternal enemies? Fighting eternally for the souls of mortals? This and a thousand questioned flew about the redhead's mind.

The Darkest Lord sighed in exasperation and turned around. "_Are you really that dense?_" he questioned, squinting at him as if he were utterly mad. "_How much have you forgotten? We're not enemies. Pfft. What genius gave you that idea? No, you nitwit. Me and my sibling may bicker like cats and dogs, but at least we have the decency to work out our differences with a perfectly… peaceful… game of… _Chess… _I hate chess… It's a stupid game…_" he muttered darkly. "_Always beats me… I swear he cheats…_"

Another white chess piece, this time a lowly pawn, fell from the roof onto the black haired man's head.

"_Gah! Stop that!_" he shouted at the roof. "_How about you come down here?! Huh?! Try and do my job! Dealing with people who never figured out when to shape up! Come off that big shiny chair of yours!_" He shook his limbs at the sky furiously, looking like a mildly disturbed owl. He composed himself after taking another long puff of his cancer roll. "_I'll be back, Founder._" He promptly vanished in a whiff of acrid smoke.

Alone and badly shaken, Amarant dropped to the ground.

The blood of the dead Founder pooled about his legs and hands, soaking his 'clothing'. The reek of death surrounded him in the suffocating air of bitterness and revulsion. As sick as it was it seemed to lift him. Sickness and revulsion was a language he knew, and spoke well. After all, hadn't he been one of the most reviled beings on the streets of Treno but a moment ago?

He lifted his hands from the gory mess, staring at the sludge that clung to his palms. He began to question what he had just done.

_It was for the greater good…_ rang the voice of Ego, his voice, in his head. _You belong here… This is your home… This holy ground is yours and yours alone…_

'Holy'? There was nothing holy about this place. His humanity was screaming bloody murder.

The Fortress of Ego began to rumble, as if the edifice was breaking, crumbling. He should leave and let this place fall to dust. But he couldn't get up.

_You can't do that…_ said Ego… said himself. _You are a part of Pride now… After all this time of blindness and denial you are once again one of Us… One of the Thousand…_

No! The tiny voice of his illusionary humanity was urging him to leave, fighting for domination. He at last got back to his feet. The giant made to run, but found that his feet had disappeared into the bloody floor, as if they had melted. He fought to uproot them and escape. He was going to go back to Gaia! The Fortress continued to crumble all around him, debris drifting down from the unseen ceiling.

_Your insistent humanity is destroying you, Founder… If you let the Fortress, the home of your predecessors and former bodies, fall then it will crush you with it…_

Was he sinking? He was now up to his knees in the gunk pouring from the former ruler's shattered neck. A massive block of stone plummeted to the ground, narrowly missing him.

_Come to terms with yourself, Founder… You are one of the many… One of the Beast of a Thousand Faces and a Thousand Names…_

No! He didn't want this anymore! He could literally _feel_ the battle going on in his mind. His Ego and humanity were going at each other tooth and nail. One wanted one thing, while the other demanded something else. It couldn't be both and it couldn't be neither.

He sight was fluctuating in a strange fashion, switching between the chamber and a dull green expanse. One of the black pillars broke away from its bases, leaning forward to crash to the ground. The place was swiftly being littered with nothing but destruction. The entire Fortress was shaking.

_Open your eyes, Founder… See what it is that you are… This ignoble shell you keep is of the earthly filth and not suited for the divine seat which is yours by word of the ancient prophets of the bygone Ages and the blood of the spiteful…_

His vision gave way to the green. He felt like he was drowning. Wait a minute… He was in water! The stuff was thick, thicker than any ordinary water. Yellow bubbles escaped from his mouth in his panic.

Amarant searched for a way out. He couldn't see anything!

_Your peers will speak… And you will truly wake… The cycle of Our kind will continue as it has for the spanless millennia We have known and ruled…_

He kicked and swam as fast as he could, looking desperately for an exit. He also wished the voices would shut up. But… was it Ego talking… or was it only his own thoughts? No way! He couldn't even _think up_ the kind of crap this annoying copy-voice was spewing. It was all a lie, and illusion. He had been tricked into this by whatever forces dwelled here and he was getting out. He was a human being! Gods he was confused!

His chest was tightening. How much longer did he have?

Pillars of what seemed to be rock melded out of the green in a wide semi-circle ahead of him. A dead end? The pillars shifted in detail as he came closer. They became monstrous monoliths, crafted in the likeness of countless creatures he wouldn't dare to even think of naming. Each was different, their arms crossed over their chests in the way a tomb would be fashioned for a pharaoh. Their eyes were closed in sleep.

There were hundreds of these statues.

He had never felt so dwarfed in all his life. They were so huge! Taller than a castle! Each and every one of them!

_Your peers… They have been waiting for you…_

He noticed that there was an awkward gap in the collection, as if one of their number was missing. He came to a stop beyond his will.

The murky fluid was crushing him. He needed air!

_You need no such thing… You needn't even breathe… Such is the weakness of your humanity… It is lying to you… telling you that you are weak like it… Dismiss it… Right your foolish mistake of keeping it…_

No! This was what made him _human_! He would not let go!

The stone eyes opened slowly, each pair emitting a gross light.

A wash of force flooded the area, nearly forcing him to lose his breath. Air!

A new voice, hundreds of voices, broke the sanctity of his mind, ringing with an incredible volume not meant for human ears.

"**_The Silence of our Hall has been broken…_**" said the deep voices as one. He could feel the statues focus their gaze on him. He nearly gasped. "**_Isxunhek… Warmonger… Your return is timely…_**" The voices were hurting his brain insanely. He tried to cover his ears and restart his trek for the surface. "**_War is coming… Your expertise is needed… But your mind is sadly broken… Why do you profess to keep the disease that blots your being?… Expel it… We demand it…_**"

Amarant couldn't hold his breath anymore. He was kicking the water but he wasn't moving. Either that, or he was, and the monoliths were following.

A sharp pain formed in his chest.

"**_You will be cleansed of your illness… The child you cling to will be destroyed…_**"

Something red was flowing out in front of his eyes. Was he… bleeding? He looked down. There was a hole in his chest. From what, he didn't now.

"**_Release the soul you claimed as your own…_**"

Agony exploded about his form. It felt as though something was being torn out of him. His ribs cracked soundly and broke outwards, shredding his chest to nothing but tatters. He expelled the breath he was so carefully harbouring, reducing it to nothing but useless bubbles swirling out into the green expanse.

"**_Obey, Sibling… Our will is your will… This beastly wisp will only weigh you down to uselessness…_**"

There was something _moving_ in this new wound, and it wasn't anything vital. Whatever it was, this crowd was trying to take it away. As it came loose, his mind flashed between two incredibly different frames of personality.

--Save your humanity! Do you truly want to forget what you've experienced as a human being? This is you! Your body holds nothing to what is contained within!--

--Foolishness! You are the Doppelganger Lord! One of the rulers of the raging Inferno! Humanity is useless! It is nothing but a wicked store of weakness! Let it die!--

He didn't know what to do.

"**_Calm yourself, Isxunhek… Such panic will end you…_**"

He was back in the Throne Room. It was falling apart. There was close to nothing left.

The monoliths surrounded him in the water.

"**_The Fortress of Ego clings to you… Don't let it fall… Give us the parasite…_**"

There was so much red and yellow in the water now… All of it his own. Whatever was being fought over he could feel tear.

--You can't afford to forget! Don't let go! For as long as you want to be you can still be human!-- Why was this voice so much fainter?

--Forsake your humanity. A mere human cannot comprehend the power that is yours. You are further from human than a virus to a vaccine! You are a Lord of Sin! Pride is your name and Ego, Avarice, Arrogance, Conceit, and Vanity are your weapons!-- Why was this one so loud?

The tear widened, and something flew out from his chest. All the red was replaced with a diseased yellow, which slowly ceased to flow. He didn't breathe. He didn't _have_ to. His head rang with the oppressive, _welcoming_ fog. He… was awake. He looked up at the thing that was now floating uselessly before him. It was small, maybe the size of a child. The skin was pale and the hair was as red as that he _chose_ to carry. It wore real clothing, fashioned from the tanned hides of beasts and the lowly silk of worms.

His humanity.

His grin was so wide he thought his face would crack. All of it was gone. Everything he had thought he had cared for before now was-just-gone. It was incredible, to not be burdened by the notions of compassion and regret. He was, truly and utterly and irreversibly, the Lord of Pride. Why did he bother to take that thing back when he had been so sure of himself before his predecessor? What _weakness_ drove him?

The youthful body twitched, coming alive. Upon realising it wasn't surrounded by air it attempted to hold whatever breath it thought it possessed. The _fear_ burning in the green eyes was so wonderful to see. He met and held its gaze. It tried to swim away upon seeing him. Its recognition of him unmistakeable. It would drown itself in its panic.

It tried to swim, but its complete lack of air paralysed its legs. It was going nowhere. Tears, lighter than the green fluid surrounding them all, flowed upwards from its closed eyes. How it was fighting for its existence! It was almost admirable.

His expression darkened. He thought back to how much embarrassment this thing had lead him through, how many shows of _human_ weakness. It made him angry, bitter, and resentful. The spite for all living things his kind and others of this place thrived off of pounded through his mind and veins. He glared at the shred of humanity that was fighting for its nonexistent life. He wanted to punish it for what it did to him. To suffer for all the weakness it was responsible for. And to do that, he would have to reclaim it. Of course, he would be assaulted by the useless emotions this thing kept, and would try to break him. But he wouldn't let that happen. It was his property now, and nothing he claimed ever got away. Besides, it might still be of use… He extended a blue arm and seized the writhing soul. It thrashed uselessly in the thick fluids.

"**_Why keep it, Sibling?…_**" questioned his peers. "**_It will destroy you… It will destroy Ego…_**"

_This is my prisoner_, he told them all. _This is my slave. It will do whatever I say whenever I say it. It will serve as a keeper of my Three_.

The assembly was silent. Then, "**_very well… Then rebuild the Fortress as you see fit, as it is now yours for the duration of your newest life… Do us all well and serve as you were intended… War is coming…_**"

The soul vanished a second time, frozen in throes of agony and terror. He felt the weight of human doubt return, demanding that he question his identity. He ignored it, pushing it away in a dark corner of his mind to deal with later. The green flooded away, leaving him in the Throne Room. It was clean and strong, the debris gone and repaired. His reign started now, and there would be no loose ends left hanging.

Briefly, visions of the green world he would be forsaking flashed through his mind. Gaia. It almost made him sad. But there was nothing there for him. His home was here, amongst the Damned waiting for their rise to Paradise. They were waiting for him to help them gain that goal.

This was his purpose, amongst a single, much more important other that he would keep to himself.

Amarant Coral, former bounty hunter and semi-human being, peered over at the broken Throne in disgust. The first thing he was going to do was get a new Throne chair. With some really nice cushions.

- - -

Zidane didn't regain the ground until they were out of the tent. "Freya!" he shouted angrily as he picked himself up. "How could you!"

Freya just turned up her nose and said nothing, a frown firmly fixed to her face.

The thief was lost for words, he was so angry. Garnet was still speechless.

"My Queen!" came the loud call of the Pluto Captain, followed swiftly by the tell-tale clanking of his armour as he jogged towards the three heroes of yore. "Queen Garnet!" He kneeled in respect. "You are safe!"

The brunette finally broke her reverie. "Steiner!" She kneeled before him, her small hands on his armoured shoulders. "How are the folk? The other Knights?" she questioned desperately.

The old fighter looked up happily. "Ah, my Queen…" He took her hands in his. "Your concern for your people chases the chill of your absence from my bones. Everyone who had passed through are fine. They are heading home."

Zidane stepped up. "Rusty, quick! I need to get to the mirror!" he asked desperately.

The Knight looked up. "Why?"

"Amarant never made it through! I need to find him and bring him back!"

Steiner got up. "So, he did go after you?"

"Yes! Yes, he did!" He gripped the man. "Please! Steiner! Take me to the mirror!"

The Pluto Captain, somewhat shaken by the strength of the thief's resolve, lead him wordlessly through the slowly dwindling crowd towards the tarp monstrosity.

They finally reached the backstage. "Here it is--" Steiner stopped himself.

Zidane dropped to his knees, running his hands over the ground in vain attempts at finding what had brought them to Hell and back.

The mirror was gone.

* * *

A/N: I'm hoping this isn't somehow corny or terribly disjointed. My brain stopped working properly at some point along this chapter... Anyway, hope it's not all mad chattering, and at least somewhat comprehensible.

See you all, if you're still with me, in another two weeks.


	17. Epilogue: p1

Discliamers: Zidane and his tripped-out sea-dogs all belong to Square and Enix yaw.

But everything else, including the waltz, I claim as mine! Because it is.

The final (double) update! This is the Epilogue! Done in two parts. Ingore the 'yaw'.

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**Epilogue - Part the First: A Sea Of Red**

How long had it been? How much time has passed?

It didn't matter. He no longer cared for such _trivial_ things as time.

The Fortress of Ego was taller, wider now, big enough even for his tastes and needs. His throne was lavish, his floors crafted in the finest red marble. He expected no less, since he was stuck here. Before him his animal-headed orchestra was playing some symphony written by a dead composer currently serving time on the Sixth Level. Their instruments were polished to a fine shine, reflecting impossibly in the under-strength lighting that dominated his Throne Room. His guests were dancing a slow waltz on his floor.

It was boring. If it wasn't for the fact that it was his turn to host the ball he would never had let these people into his home. The Infernal Folk were dressed regally, but their clothes were in tatters. What appeared to be gruesome masks were their faces, sunken, stretched, befanged, and horrible. He let out a small sigh of discontent, making his closest servant, Strong One, peer at him questioningly. He had better, more important things to do than to play host to these ignoramuses. He let his mind wander. He had too much tension in his system. Maybe he'd round up some of the more baleful Damned to play hunter with. It had been _too_ long since the last time he had hunted a man. He grinned, the idea growing on him. Some of the more cautious guests were eyeing him carefully from the periphery of their vision, hoping the smirk they were seeing wouldn't be some kind of outward sign of impending doom upon them all.

His dreads had grown, but whether or not they were even _hair_ was up for speculation. They fell well past his chest, and blended nicely with his textured robes of station. He hadn't lost his pallor either. The unhealthy clash of red on sickly white made others gag and hold themselves, and he would laugh at their weak constitutions.

He spun one of the many rings he wore about his thick fingers with his thumb, contemplating over a way to get rid of these parasites quickly. The emerald stone rotated around his finger as he thought, glimmering in a way that defied the physics of the weak light surrounding it. He had grown fond of jewellery of late, anything that was made through heat and compression was welcome in his vaults. Copper was also something he also had plenty of. The stuff shone like no other metal could provide, blazing red. The element interwove throughout all he possessed.

Behind all the carefully conducted orchestral score he could hear the woeful wails of his charges. Some were outside, mere black husks of burnt flesh shambling about, waiting for their punishment to end. Most, however, were below, in the caverns far beneath the surface, toiling about upon his will. The harder they worked, the shorter their sentence would ultimately become. They will swelter for all their worth, each and every one of them, in order to attain what they so desperately desired. Ultimate peace did not come cheap; it had to be worked for, both throughout and after life. The science and _rightness_ of it all had hit him not too much longer after he had finally ascended his throne and instated himself as Master of this place. Here, his word was law.

The Lord of Pride rested his head upon a hand, bored of the event taking place before his chair of power. He would get up once the banquet started, no sooner, and no later. There was nothing going on he that he was even remotely interested in; let those masquerading low-lives do what they would, but if he awoke to find even a tassel out of place, he would have them all set under the guillotine that took residence outside on the sixty-sixth floor balcony.

The slow drone of the waltz and the slow step of the dancers was hypnotic, inviting him to fall to blissful oblivion faster than he normally would.

- - -

Amarant Coral was too tired to run. In the darkness that had for so long been his prison, he was nearly blind. He had been trapped in here for years now. How many… he was sure it was over twenty now. He had a chance to escape once… maybe twice… but it didn't happen. The first time… he should have killed it, but he thought the Angels would have fixed that for him. They didn't. Then, he had been released, torn from his cage by an ungodly force. But yet again, he had been recaptured, forced to dwell and suffer here for no fathomable reason he could conjure.

He kept going, keeping a constant eye out for the things that were his enemy. Their soft voices permeated the walls on all sides, everywhere and nowhere. He hated it. He hated everything to do with this place and the one who had made it… The beast that had stolen his skin and very soul. It had left him with nothing but his hatred and bitterness in the dark that was the belly of this beast.

It had been so long… and he hadn't aged a day… He was still but fifteen, just as he was the day his body had been torn to pieces. The young boy remembered that night as if it were yesterday, with the rain, and the false body on the side of the road. Ever since he had been imprisoned the event replayed continuously in his mind, looping over and over. The sounds, the smells, the agony… it never stopped and never would until he was at last free. That was why he was looking for an exit.

He had lost his footwear at some point. His feet were slick with whatever gunk it was that coated the floor of this sick collection of caverns. The stuff stank horribly like rotted meat. The walls all around were made of heated flesh. It was disgusting, and he hated it. He hated everything to do with this place. He stopped in his sloped trek.

A sound, fainter than the hiss of a fine breeze, had risen from not too far ahead. He inched silently forward, finding a fork in the path. A fork that looked like every other fork in every other path. He peered around the entryway carefully. The wall to his far left was pulsing unnaturally. The normally subtle veins were bulging crazily from the flesh, pushing whatever they carried as cargo to the middle of the wall, where they all intersected into some deranged star. Amongst the crossroads of Gods knew what there was a hole, oozing the same vile sludge that slicked the ground. It was translucent and yellow.

Amarant knew what this was. He watched in disgust as the wall seemed to bulge in its entirety, as if something was fighting its way out from the other side. With a squeaking noise the wall released a figure in a wash of the liquid stench. The thing landed with a wet flopping noise, laying there on the ground. He watched it squeal and push itself onto its legs. It was grey, amorphous, and sick. A shape-shifter. A doppelganger.

If he still had that rock he had found earlier, he would have bashed its skull to a bloody pulp before it could so much as blink. But he had lost it elsewhere, and he had to keep moving. He would find the exit from this horrible place, and return to the outside. He may know that he was dead, but there were limits to what even the dead could do. But he would have his revenge. He would get back at the woeful freak of nature that had extinguished his life much sooner than it should have bloomed, and made a mockery of it through crime and the hunting of fellow man.

The young redhead retreated from the mouth of the conjoining path. He would have to go another way, backtrack a bit. The thing would remain there, and even just passing by the entry would bring its attention, and the last thing he needed was for those monsters to pick his trail back up again after all the work it had taken for him to get away. He slinked off back the way he had come, searching for anything else that could serve as an alternate route before he was forced to go back too far. The fiends he had just given the slip were probably not too far, still trying to find him amongst the chaos that was his jail keeper's body.

He looked up. A ledge, dribbling with ooze, offered a way out. With sharpened nails he scaled the cliff with relative ease, disregarding the sludge that was soaking his clothing. He had long since replaced much of his outer tribal weaves with the skin of his enemies. It made him all the more invisible to them.

_Run, rabbit, run._

He grit his teeth. It has that thing again, the sick presence he was forced to endure in every waking moment. Ego.

_Why not just stop? It would be so quick and easy…_

He would never stop. He knew that thing only spouted lies. There was no release in his "death" at the hands of the shape-shifters. He knew that it would just start all over again. No, he would keep running, as far and as fast he could, until he found the exit.

_There is no exit. You're fighting a useless, losing battle of shattered will. Suffer. Die. You abhorrent worm_.

How he hated that voice. It always used his voice to speak to him, mocking him and belittling him with words he never thought would actually _hurt_. Amarant kept climbing, hauling himself up onto the ledge at long last. He wouldn't give in to these voices!

_What are you fighting for? Do you hope to find your parents in the afterlife?_

He couldn't help but stop. He glared at the wall. The voice of Ego seemed to be coming from there this time.

_Hit a nerve, have we? Suck it up, I have more for you_.

Shut up.

_What's the matter, you calloused bastard son of a dog? There is no happy ending for you… Not for as long as This Founder remains in power here_.

No, he would find a way out. He turned and left. He didn't need to give this sadist the satisfaction of his attention.

_Run if you want. I'll always be here_…

He didn't look back. Hearing the distant hisses of the horrible grey-skinned beasts that dwelled within the fleshy tunnels, he ran.

* * *


	18. Epilogue: p2

Disclaimers: ...I'm running out of lines.

You know the drill. It's the END. Yaw.

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**Epilogue - Part the Second: A Mirror For Your Troubles**

The streets of Treno were dark as they always were, speckled with snobby nobles and ragged peasants that squatted under the lamp lights.

Through the city's kerosene-lit ways stepped a cloaked figure. With a face hidden by a deep grey hood this stranger wove his way to the brightly decorated auction house, where nobles of all kinds bet their coin on items both legendary and useless.

Admitting himself inside the cloaked visitor swiftly took a seat in the third row, beside a hulking figure swathed in a darkened scarlet robe edged with what appeared to be dirty gold. But the other new better. Long red, dry locks fell out from under the concealing hood.

"Hello, Zidane," greeted the red cloaked figure quietly.

The blonde pushed his hood from his head. "Hey."

It had been two whole years since the tailed thief had nearly lost everything dear to him. He had since then become a King, ruling beside his beloved Queen over the kind people of Alexandria. He had grown considerably in both body and mind. He was a good foot taller, his hair was longer, tied back with a white ribbon. His eyes still carried their blue spark of mischievousness. A grim line was spread over where a bright smile would have been. "Why did you call me?" he questioned.

The auctioneer, the same man of greed that had served within the now-abandoned castle since the days of the Mist, had begun to call off the next item on his long list of 'treasures' to sell to the witlessly rich.

The other was silent, hands crossed on his lap. The thief could not see his former companion's face.

The bid for a silver candelabra, supposedly owned by once-mighty lord across the seas, had risen to a heavy one million gil, and still climbing. Rich bachelors, desperate to get their choice woman of wealth a gift to seal her riches as their own, continued to call out absurd amounts of coin, much to the pleasure of the bulb-nosed man calling the bids at the front.

"…I haven't heard from you in a while, 'rant," said the Alexandrian King softly. He wasn't sure if he really wanted the other to answer. The air around the man was so _different_ now.

The larger of the two of them shifted slightly, releasing a faint miasma of decay into the air-freshened atmosphere. "You know I can't bypass the Laws to contact you for pleasure," replied Amarant with a stiff voice. "I went through enough trouble to get here besides." He coughed lightly.

Zidane looked his partner over. His pale hands looked thin, almost boney; fingers tipped with sharpened nails and adorned with a crazy collection of gemmed rings of gold and silver. His slouch was worse than he ever remembered seeing it, as if he was having trouble sitting up straight. "You haven't seen Philippe," said the King, smiling a little. "He's turning two in a few weeks."

"Oh? A terror is he?" questioned the cloaked man.

He grinned, glad that he could at least get a _friendly_ conversation out of the person beside him. "Not yet… But he's starting to get a little more curious than Garnet can handle on her own." He chuckled lightly. "And how about you?"

Amarant lifted a hand dismissively. "You don't want to know."

Zidane laughed at this. Though he knew that was true.

The auction continued, with a new piece of worthless metal up for grabs.

The King sighed. "Is there an easier why to talk to you?… I mean… without a Ouija board?" He peered at the former bounty hunter through the corner of his eye with a fading grin. "The last time I tried to use it, I nearly got caught by Garnet. And, if I do recall, the response I got from you was 'bugger off, I'm busy!'."

Amarant shrugged. "I was in the middle of entertaining guests for a lame-ass meeting I _had_ to attend. You just called at a bad time is all."

"Pfft. Some excuse," he retorted jokingly.

A new item was brought up, making the cloaked bounty hunter sit up straight. The auctioneer brought out a massive, ornate mirror, larger than any normal looking glass. The gold frame was wide and ornate, decorated with menacing demonic figures biting at the silver glass between them, lined with silver, brass, copper, and precious gems. A collective shudder wormed through the entire crowd, minus the cloaked redhead. "This next item, ladies and gentlemen," announced the auctioneer, waving a gloved hand over the mirror for emphasis. "Is an artefact of great renown. This very looking glass was the prize possession of a very powerful and violent warlock, said to be able to reflect other worlds." He ran a pig eye over the now-murmuring assembly. "The bid for this worthy mirror will start at a steal of a million gil! Do I hear an advance?" he called out.

"One million five hundred thousand," called Amarant from his seat.

"Two million!" challenged a robed man from the other side of the assembly.

Amarant growled. "Three!"

The challenger turned his blonde head to glare at him, orange eyes glinting evilly. "Six million!" he countered.

Zidane was starting to sweat. His partner was angry. His green eyes were practically _glowing_ beneath the hood. "Ten million," the redhead said, standing.

The citrus eyed man stood up in his seat as well. "Thirteen!"

The auctioneer was sweating in glee. Never before had any of his bids gone so high. Everyone else was silent as well, getting the clear vibe that these two didn't want to be interrupted.

"Twenty."

"Twenty five!"

Amarant's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Fifty million gil."

The challenger went pale, but scowled at the cloaked figure for good measure.

The auctioneer was gawping silently like a fish stranded on land. "Ah… Fif-fifty million gil! Do I hear an advance? Fifty million!" No answer. "Fifty million going once, going twice…" He held the last note, hoping for someone to jump up and say 'sixty!' No such offer came. "Going thrice. Sold!" He hit his small auctioneer's hammer on the wood of his podium. "To the gentleman in the red cloak!"

Zidane shifted to let the taller being through to the aisle. Amarant, his form hidden beneath his layered cloak of red and darkened gold, stepped up the podium to retrieve his purchase.

"I trust you will be paying up front in full, sir?" questioned the auctioneer with a grin.

The redhead rumbled darkly. "Of course." He waved a hand.

The doors to the auction house burst open, admitting a quartet of heavily robed figures carrying a bolted chest of wood and metal. All eyes were glued to the chest in awe. How many riches were contained within? The carriers hefted their cargo up to the auctioneer's feet, setting it down gently before scuttling away with a second wave of the former bounty hunter's hand. The auctioneer nearly lost his jaw.

"My mirror?" Amarant questioned irritably.

"Yes, yes, it's yours, my good man!" replied the greedy man hastily. "Auctions are closed for today, ladies and gentlemen! Good day!" he announced to the crowd. The cloaked redhead took his prize and left, with the King following, and a pair of orange eyes glaring after him. Groaning and muttering, everyone else got up to leave as well, pining for another reason to show off their material prowess.

Once outside, with the mirror covered by a large cloth, Amarant turned to the King. "I have a great favour to ask of you, Zidane."

The tailed blonde stretched. "Ah, the reason you brought me here, splendid!"

The two kept to the shadows. "I need you to look after this mirror," he said.

Zidane gave him a sceptical look. "A mirror? You want me to babysit a mirror?" he scoffed.

Amarant nearly glared at him. "This is not an ordinary mirror, Tribal."

"Of course, or else you wouldn't be here, right?" he supplemented sarcastically.

The redhead stopped, making the other do the same. "This a Demon's Portrait, Zidane," he said seriously. "An artefact of immense power."

"Oh?" Zidane was suspicious for two reasons. One, if his old friend was here for it, it couldn't be anything good. And two, he didn't really want what could be an item of death and destruction brought into his home. "Like the mirror we were pulled through before, right?"

"Yes, but even more so. Listen to me, Tribal." He lowered his voice. "The abilities of this looking glass are unfathomable, and for that reason it must be kept inert."

"Why don't you just take it with you?" he questioned softly. "Why leave it with me?" He really didn't want this thing in his castle.

Amarant sighed. "Because I cannot take it with me. Not yet. There is still too much… commotion…"

The King peered at him carefully. "What's going on?"

"I'm not at liberty to say." He pressed the massive mirror into the King's hands. It was taller than he was by at least two feet. "But please, take it, and protect it. Don't use it unless you absolutely must." He backed away. "My servants will make sure of your safe travel with the Portrait."

Zidane blinked, and the man was gone. "Wait!" he called out, knowing that no-one would answer.

With the giant mirror in his grasp, he made for the city's gates, shuddering slightly. The thing was so _warm_ in his hands. It nearly made his palms burn. Why was everything else so much _colder?_

Far in the shadows, a vengeful pair of orange eyes watched him leave the alleyway and head towards the main gates of the dark city.

- - -

The auctioneer was happy to be alone with his haul of money. With everyone else gone, he would be at liberty to wallow in his well-deserved pay. What kind of an idiot would pay so much for a mirror? He had made up the story of the warlock, as an attention grabber. People were gullible beings, ready to believe anything they heard if it had the chance of somehow giving them power.

He caressed the top of the chest lovingly, unlocking the two metal clasps slowly.

The lid's lift revealed a glowing mass of purest gold coin. The man nearly wet himself.

He ran his gloved fingers through the mess of rich, letting the perfect objects of greed tumble teasingly from between his fingers. "So much money…" he breathed, his glasses reflecting the glittering spoils of a higher class of thievery. "And its all mine… all _mine_…"

A set of obsidian green hands tipped with curved nails flew out from the collected gold, gripping the man by the arms. The auctioneer yelped in unbridled fear. What was this? A mimic?

_Greed… greed… GREED…_

He couldn't even bring himself to call for his guards.

A face, long, like an animal's but hairless and wrinkled, emerged from the gold. Slobber dribbled from between crooked canines. The man was frozen solid with the yellow glare.

_Caller of the Greed, you're time to serve has come… You have overstayed your dues…_

With a yell wrought of purest fear the auctioneer was pulled under the stores of gleaming gold, disappearing in a blink. Hardly a second after, the treasures given to him swiftly darkened and decomposed to reeking rot and offal, releasing a poisonous miasma that tarnished all it touched.

Man chooses his destiny

He has the choice of doing whatever he wishes

But his path is winding and may be crooked

At the end of Life's road may lie

A soft bed

A space neither holy nor foul

Or a place where only fear resides

But no man, woman, or child need to fear

For all shadows must be created with light

For without light there may be no shadow

And with no shadow

There would be no reason for light to exist

This is our balance

And thus the balance of the world and all worlds to come

- Cessation one -

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A/N: I thought the last chapter of part four might have come across a little corny-like, so I tried to head back towards all the dark and stuff in the Epilogue, which was originally one part. Because the first part didn't exist until two days ago. I hate that auctioneer. He deserved what he got. 

Blawg, I can't believe this is done. Over one hundred sixty pages of _words_. This has gone through so many changes, it's almost sick. To sum that up, let's just say it's a good thing the initial idea of putting this in space never worked out. It was a long, full-week battle between demon-overlord, and space-overlord. Then I played Starcraft. Then demon-overlord won. It was a good thing. No, the Prologue had nothing to do with space ships. It was the Angel in chapter 12, I swear by this mallard duck I have sitting on my feet.

So there you have it, folks. The first part of this insane epic in all its painful glory. Hated the loose ends? Not to worry, they play an intregral part in the rest of this. The second part of this epic is already under way; it will be longer, full of more lies, secrets, darkness, horror, pandemonium and foul play on all ends. It will be up by mid-September at the latest, when I get my internet back. Until then, adios, amigos! I'm taking a little break, go mooching off of somebody else's internet, and making art based off of this. ...And studying for finals.

Please R&R! Tell me what you think of it now that it's finished!


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